Is my memory that bad? No.

So as I stood in the shower this morning, I wondered to myself whether I just had a bad memory or had blocked out whole years of my life or if it was just specific to my ex-husband.  So I thought back to the three years we spent in Minnesota, the first three years of our marriage.

I remember in detail what my first classroom as a teacher looked like, some of the students who passed through it, the crazy way I would act out words, the chemistry teacher down the hall that I would share about my experiences with the fog and clouds on my drive in, etc.  And it's not just the good parts of that first teaching job I remember.  I remember in detail the embarrassment in the moment I realized I had handed a dad a different child's grade printout, the parent who yelled at me when her daughter didn't get the high grade she expected on a project, the conversation when the principal let me know he would not be renewing my contract.

I can visualize in detail the condo we lived in, where the fish tanks sat, where I hung the fresh evergreen garland at Christmas, the tree in the front yard with berries that would ferment over winter and attract the Cedar Waxwings who I caught getting drunk off them one year, the boy across the street who would bounce soccer balls off our garage door sometimes, etc.  

But I can't visualize any of his parents' intrusive visits during the school year, the ones I only really remember from the journal entries I had written about them.  And although I still feel like I hold the tensions of the constant fights my ex-husband and I had, I don't remember the details and I can't visualize them.  All I have are the feelings that remain from them and the journal entries I wrote about them.  No wonder he was so easily able to convince me that I was to blame for those fights - I didn't remember enough to refute his claims.

Going back further to the time period I had convinced myself was so great, I can paint an elaborate picture of the places I lived in college, of the conversations I had with my closest friends, of the afterschool elementary Spanish program I started and wrote curriculum for, the chemistry professor who offered me a research opportunity, the student teaching experience I had with such a fun, older, eccentric teacher, the job I took at the local grocery store when we were living off campus, etc.  I even remember the long hours alone in my parents' brown van going back and forth to spend weekends with him.

But the visualizations I have that actually include him are far and few between.  I have no recollection of the conversations that clearly made me uncomfortable when he was suddenly changing his graduate school plans and pushing to move in together - those I read about in my journal.  I can't visualize how we interacted together in our first apartment.  And although I can walk you through the entire apartment - where all our stuff sat, how it was laid out, the path through the grass we had to shovel ourselves in the winter, etc., I can't picture him there with me.  His chair is empty when I walk through the apartment in my mind.

If the beginning was truly as great as I had convinced myself it was, why can't I remember those supposedly great memories?  Why has my brain selectively held onto all the memories in that time period that don't involve him but let go of the ones about him?

My therapist yesterday asked if I had lost more of these memories since the separation.  I really don't think so.  I think I discarded them many years ago as a coping mechanism to not counter my belief that the relationship was good or at least good enough, maybe I even subconsciously chose not to store some of them in the first place.  

Sometimes even with more recent memories, I remember telling someone shortly after the breakup that he would say or do X and they would ask me more about that and I couldn't come up with a single example which then made me doubt whether I was right in my initial claim that he had done or said X.  But then as I processed more and more of my marriage, I started finding journal entries, e-mails, notes, and other writings with detailed examples to back up the feelings I was still holding onto.  

There are still some things that I'm confident he did yet I can't come up with any details and I just have to trust my gut on them.  Sometimes there is a random piece of a memory to suggest my gut is right but other times I have nothing.   Like I have this sensation of repeatedly throughout our entire marriage of arguments ending with me soothing him and my issue getting pushed to the side.  I can't give you a single specific example of when this happened.  It's just this ingrained pattern in my body alongside one clear memory of a single sentence he said to me once (with a lot of attitude during an argument) that was something along the lines of "I know I'm not supposed to talk about me."  But I can't visualize a single thing more about the rest of that specific argument - what came before or what came after.

My body kept score of all that was happening to me.  It hung onto the feelings even as my mind tried to erase the details.

A setback

After therapy this afternoon, I took a two mile walk, stopped and sat on my therapy bench while I texted with my sister (and shed a few tears), and picked up a sushi burrito for dinner.  Now, that I've eaten I want to try and put to words some of what I am feeling.

I was scheduled for Accelerated Resolution Therapy (ART) this afternoon.  I was really hopeful going into it.  I'm now 21 months from the day I moved into my own half of the apartment we shared at that time, 1.5 years from the day the divorce was final, and not a day goes by that my ex-husband doesn't still cross my mind at least once bringing up negative emotions.  I had hoped this therapy would replace some of those negative emotions with something more neutral.  

We had barely started ART when panic flooded through me.  I got really hot as the tears started to flow and my body tensed up.  It all happened as I was realizing that I didn't actually have any visuals of so many of the earlier memories and so I didn't know how I was going to play the scenes of our marriage in my head if I couldn't visualize the events I knew had happened.

My therapist stopped the ART session at that point and turned her camera back on so we could talk through what I was feeling.

I had held onto the feelings and a vague timeline of events and could fill in a few details from re-reading my journals, but I had blocked out visuals of so many events.  I suppose that was my coping mechanism.

And then the realization struck me that even my early years couldn't have been good with him if I felt the need to disassociate and block out memories going back that far.  I had told myself over and over throughout the relationship that we had such an amazing start to the relationship, that our "honeymoon" phase had lasted a long time, as if clinging to it might make that time period return.  But what if that time period never actually existed?  That realization hit me like a bag of rocks.

I'm exhausted.  I'm physically and emotionally exhausted.  I have a headache that won't go away, both literally and figuratively.  I feel like today demonstrated that I haven't progressed as far as I thought I had.  It feels like a big setback.  I'm disappointed.  I'm disappointed that after all these months, I still have this big of a reaction to a man that was never worth my investment.  I'm disappointed that I didn't get to see if this therapy could help me.  I'm disappointed that I wasted two decades on him.  

And I'm angry at how he really fucked me up.  How someone can do that to a person they claimed to love and still sleep at night is beyond any comprehension.

As I sat on my therapy bench and texted my sister, she sent me the following graphic which helped me take a moment to laugh at how true this is about so much in life.  I joked that I had fallen into the lake in that graphic.

Now, I sit here alone in my apartment.  The sun has set.  A cool breeze drifts in.  It's quiet.  And despite everything I wrote in the paragraphs above, I know that I will be okay.  Tomorrow morning I'll be back on my scooter with the wind in my hair and a youthful glee ready to face another day.

Critical Thinking Skills

A topic came up with a colleague that is near and dear to the work I do.  It related to a couple of topics that had been in the news in recent months.   The news she had been reading grossly misrepresented the facts in each case.  I shared with her what I had seen in the data that was relevant which really contradicted what she had read.  She was really quick to dismiss me saying something to the effect of, "I don't have access to your statistics or information.  All I can rely on is the news."  That is where the conversation ended.

I've had similar conversations with other people and each time I walk away feeling so disappointed.  These are people who although may not understand the nuance of the specific topic, have some knowledge into what we do.  They are people I had always felt were reasonably intelligent.  And yet they are completely closed to anything I, a colleague someone they probably would call a friend, might have to say.

I suppose there was a day when the nightly news was reasonably objective.  Then we switched to this 24/7 news cycle with news "entertainment" companies thrown into the mix.  Add in social media and its algorithms and it feels like a losing game.

But it's not really new.  I remember a conversation I had with my ex-husband in the last 6 months or so we were together where he made a claim in support of Elon Musk.  It was a claim that didn't sound right to me but I hadn't done the research to know any different so I asked him more about it.  

His defenses were up before the question even fully left my lips.  He had only read the headline.  He claimed hadn't prepared a whole defense.  He didn't want me to question him.

I didn't want a thesis from him.  And he had to have known I wasn't universally against Musk at that time.  We had quite a few discussions about the complexities of him and what he had accomplished.  There is nuance to most topics.   (This was back in late 2023 or early 2024.)  So I was open to hearing more facts.  But I needed more than a headline.  I wanted details that I could analyze.  I wasn't willing to just take for fact something that had been written in some article.

I grew up with parents who demonstrated critical thinking skills consistently.  We didn't just assume the news was right.  We discussed it.  We compared it to other information we knew.  We checked sources.  We talked about other sources.  It wasn't criticism to question someone else's information, although it also didn't mean we had to agree with them.  There are still topics my Dad and I disagree on but when we discuss them, we discuss facts.  We don't dismiss each other.

I wasn't prepared for a relationship where I could not enter into discussions like that with my spouse.  And I wasn't prepared for a world where my colleagues would be quicker to trust their media sources than their colleagues who work directly in the field.  Do people not learn critical thinking skills growing up?

Unreciprocated ways I showed interest in his interests

Today's social media memories are concrete examples from two different years of the ways I would encourage my ex-husband's interests and join him in those interests even when it wasn't something that interested me.

On April 15, 2021, I followed him all around our local auto show where he did his best to try and sit in and inspect every car at the show.  I happily went because I cared about seeing him happy not because I had any interest in staring at cars for hours on end.

On April 15, 2024, we took a dune buggy excursion in the Dominican Republic where he got to off-road and get us all covered completely in mud.  It was an experience I never would have chosen for myself but I found it and booked because I wanted to see his joy.  My gimbal for my phone is still stained from the mud that covered it as I recorded our adventure, reminding me of this day each time I use it.

Yet, when we did something I wanted to do like go to a botanical gardens, he would spend the entire time alternating between complaining and burying himself in his phone.  

I don't regret showing up for him and what was important to him.  It's a positive reflection on my character.  

But his not showing up for me in similar ways was a sign of how self-absorbed he was and how unbalanced the relationship was that I probably should have paid a little closer attention to.  He was showing me his character in those moments.

Walkable Community - Walk until my mood improves

It feels like a snowball of little things going wrong that keep pulling me down.  And maybe that is happening at some level.  But I also wonder how much the anxiety of waiting on this Atlanta job is interfering with my perspective.  Regardless, I'm struggling but not horribly struggling because I'm also hanging onto some really good.

I couldn't convince myself to go to the hip hop cardio class at the park today.  I'm tired.  I didn't have the energy for a full hour high intensity workout.  I also wasn't ready to change out of the beautiful, bright yellow dress I wore today.  So I bargained with myself.  I decided I was willing to skip the class if, and only if I didn't let myself just sit at home all evening instead.  I wanted to replace the activity with something.

So I headed out.  Several young women in the apartment complex down the street were looking out from their second floor pool deck and called down to compliment me on the dress.  That became a theme throughout the night.  I have never received so many compliments from so many people on a dress before.  Strangers even smiled at me as they passed on the street.

I wandered through Railroad Park.  I stopped to admire the American Coot floating in the pond.  It's not a common species for the park but one usually shows up for no more than a day once or twice a year.

I grabbed tacos at a local Mexican restaurant, snagging a counter seat that looks out onto the street which was full of activity.

Then I continued on to the local wine garden I have come to love.  The wine is always interesting and the people are fun to watch.  Today, I was an inspiration for the woman sitting at the table next to me.  She watched me sit calmly as a wasp circled around me, inspected me, and then flew off.  She acknowledged she would have panicked and was impressed with how I handled it.  She told me she was going to channel my inspiration.

I continued on to another outdoor seating area where I just sat and took in the warm weather while planning my next move.

Eventually I found myself walking into my local grocery store with the goal of purchasing flowers and dessert.  They had the mini apple pies I love and the large containers of Bryers Oat Milk ice cream.  And there was this beautiful bouquet of flowers that were mostly yellow that perfectly matched my dress.  I checked out with the most pleasant cashier that left me with a smile on my face as I walked out the door.

On my way home, I walked through Railroad Park once more.  This time the Great Blue Heron was hanging out on the edge of the pond so I took a moment to say hi to him.  He has been a frequent visitor these last few days.  

About three hours later I was back in my kitchen, trimming my flowers, warming my apple pie, and sitting down to dessert.  And the whole night felt like a huge success.

This is a benefit of a walkable community.  When I'm having a tough day, I can go out and just keep walking until my mood improves.

And to memorialize the yellow dress, here I am, a reflection in a storefront window.

Grief over a restaurant closing

My favorite restaurant closed permanently yesterday.  I didn't realize it when I scootered by this morning but thought it weird that the bar stools were down instead of turned upside down on the bar as they usually are in the morning before opening.  It wasn't until a headline crossed my phone that it registered why.

This is the restaurant friends met me at the day I moved out and the same restaurant friends celebrated at with me one year later.  It's the place where I started learning to talk to other people, especially with a certain bartender who I always hoped to catch.  It was a space where people remembered me and welcomed me.

It's where I went for delicious chocolate cake when I really didn't want to eat dinner.  It's where I often went because my fridge is perpetually empty.   

It feels like such a big loss.

I almost stopped in yesterday.  I kind of wish I had so I could have one last  meal although I wouldn't have known in the moment that it would be my last.  I suppose we never know when our last moment of anything will be until it is over.

I joked today as I tried to process that clearly, the only solution is to move.

I chatted with a work friend last week about some of my disappointments with friends and she told me that I probably have or will outgrow them all, including her.  I don't know that I will truly outgrow all of them but I do think there is some truth to what she said.  My growth has been so accelerated this past year and a half that it is only logical that some (maybe even much) of what I came to know and love during this time will stay behind in this season when I move on (to whatever is next in store for me).

And based on my reaction to this restaurant closing, there is definitely going to be some grief in this process.

A Symbolic Puzzle

I started this 1000 piece puzzle on February 15, almost two months ago.  It's been sitting there so long, there is a thin layer of pollen that has covered it and been stirred up over it.  With how much I keep my windows open, my entire apartment has a thin layer of pollen everywhere.  Maybe this wasn't the best season to work on a puzzle.  Although, I probably fully expected to finish it before pollen season began.

It's really hard.  The pond and her hair went fairly quickly. But what's left is various shades of green with irregular puzzle piece shapes.  I often only find one or two pieces to place each day.  I feel stuck.  I want my kitchen table back.  But I can't bring myself to give up.  I also can't get myself to sit at it long enough to make any real progress.

It's this daily reminder of a challenge that feels like something I can't overcome.  It's an image from Atlanta, a reminder of the months I have been waiting on the job I want, a reminder of the puzzle pieces I'm still waiting to fall into place.  Maybe that's why I can't give up.

I feel like there are so many aspects of my life where I'm just stuck in this waiting pattern, waiting for the last puzzle pieces to fall in place - waiting to start a new chapter in a new city, waiting for the intrusive thoughts about my marriage and ex-husband to fade away as I continue to heal, waiting for the next shoe to drop at my office as we continue our time of transition, waiting for the migratory birds to arrive and the herons to nest and hatch babies, etc.

So this unfinished puzzle of the Earth Goddess at the Atlanta Botanical Garden just feels symbolic.  I'm tired of feeling stuck and I'm tired of looking at it. 

Today's Social Media Memory

I suppose one advantage to taking a break from social media during Lent was that I was not reminded of the past with memories.  That's good and bad though.  I really enjoy so many of the memories.  He's not even in many of my memory posts.  And even the ones that do include a photo of him, he is rarely the focus and it's often a moment I enjoy reliving.

But today's made my breath catch and my stomach drop.  It was Easter of 2020, six years ago.  I enjoyed coffee on the balcony, watched my church's service virtually, and then my ex-husband and I made pupusas, a traditional filled tortilla common in El Salvador.  Most of the photos on that post are of the two of us making and then enjoying the pupusas.

In the photos, I look so young and happy.  The joy in my eyes and face radiates out.

He on the other hand, has barely a smile with a look of irritation behind it.  I don't know why but I still find myself a bit surprised when I come across a new photo where his look seems irritated or empty (the two most common expressions I see in photos) going back many years.  And it doesn't even seem to matter if the photo was taken while we were doing something he really wanted to do.  

I pulled a book off my shelf my Dad made from our 2013 family trip when we took an excursion in Belize that he talked about for years as the best excursion he ever took.  It was one where he had the chance to drive a left-land drive jeep off-road through deep puddles.  His expressions in those photos are empty.  There is just no real joy in his eyes and his smile is never more than a half-smile.  

I suspect life has just always been miserable to him.  And I think I knew that all along and hoped my joy would counter his misery.  But maybe my joy was just a daily reminder to him of how miserable he was.

Accelerated Resolution Therapy

Tomorrow I'm trying a different therapy called Accelerated Resolution Therapy (ART).

My therapist brought it up months ago and at that time, my whole body physically reacted to the idea.  I remember the flood of emotions that I tried to understand as she explained it to me.  I don't know if I truly could articulate why my body responded the way it did.  I feared a loss of self in a process that sounded like manipulating memories.  

But in hindsight I wonder if I just wasn't ready to sever the ties that had to be severed to reframe my mind's response to what I had been through.  One thing I've learned from all this is that sometimes our bond to the familiar is so strong it feels impossible to break away from the toxic. 

Then a couple of weeks ago as I sat in session unsure of what I needed at this point yet still feeling really stuck, my therapist brought ART up again.  I didn't have the same physical reaction to the idea this time so in true Enneagram type 5 fashion, I asked her to send me some information so I could learn a little more about it.  She sent me several Ted Talks on ART.

Last year, I attended an interview course that included some sessions on memory - how it is stored, recalled, and re-stored, how fragile it is, etc.  That course prompted me to read a good portion of the book Thinking Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman which allowed me to digger deeper into how our brains work.  That knowledge brings a double-edged sword to my thought process about this therapy.  

There is fear because I understand how fragile memory is and how easily our brains can be manipulated.  As I try to re-ground myself and untwist the distortions my ex left me with, I crave an understanding of what is truly real.  Manipulating my brain goes against that even as I recognize the positive end results of this therapy.

On the flip side, my layman's understanding of how the brain works helps me understand how a therapy like this could be highly effective.  So even though the idea that such a transformation can happen in one session sounds a bit crazy, I actually don't doubt that it will work.  I don't understand all the science behind it but I know it doesn't take much to change memories and thus our reactions to those memories.

I said yes to scheduling the session because I'm tired of how I still react to thoughts of him.  Even as I walk past his empty apartment, I feel something rush through my body for a moment.  I really wish he had never moved into that apartment when we had separated.  He could have chosen another complex.  He could have chosen an apartment that faced into the courtyard I never enter.  He could have picked a higher level where I wouldn't have been eye level as I walked past.  Anything would have been better.  And I know this will all become mute if/when I move, hopefully to Atlanta but it's not the only trigger.

Even though moving to Atlanta will mean leaving behind most of the memories with him, there is still a bench and a frog pond at the Atlanta Botanical Garden that haunts me.  And there's still the intrusive thoughts on nights I can't sleep.  And even intrusive thoughts throughout the day.  As I told my friend last night in an overly simplistic explanation, I'd like to stop the utterance of the word "asshole" under my breath whenever his name or face crosses my mind.

So tomorrow, I'm giving this therapy a shot.  I don't do things half-heartedly so the fact that I scheduled it set in motion something I'm ready to follow through on.  I am a bit nervous.  I will admit that.  But I'm also incredibly curious.  And I'm hopeful.

Two late-night meaningful texts

I woke up to late night texts from two different friends and had tears in my eyes before my day even started.  I couldn't help but notice they were both sent at exactly the same time.  Two people were thinking of me on a late Friday night in the middle of what I know to be an incredibly busy time in their lives right now.

One of them is from a friend at work who probably has had the most up close seat of my journey this last year and a half.  She sent me a really uplifting and humorous Instagram Reel of a woman forcing me to take back my crown with a message to go out there and be great and to not let anyone knock my crown off my head again.  In a world where so many people feel the need to compete and put others down, I'm intentionally trying to find people like this friend whose only goal is to uplift and support.

The other text was from the woman I had an impromptu, although brief dinner with last night.  I initially got to know her as a colleague but she has since moved on to another position so I don't get to see her all that often.  She also has a lot of responsibilities at home that take up much of her time.  But she is probably the one I have connected to the most since the divorce.  Her text was an expression of gratitude for our time together last night on a tough day for her.  (She was in my neighborhood visiting her Dad in the hospital.)  She probably doesn't fully understand how much I needed that impromptu dinner too.

I've been feeling a bit disappointed in both my friend groups and the repeated "no"s I've been getting along with cancellations.  Maybe I struggle more with this after realizing how low of a priority I was to my ex-husband and even how growing up, my sister's needs (which were greater) took precedence and friendships repeatedly disappeared overnight.  

And so as I was building this community that seemed so great, it hit hard these last few months, when I was reminded that I still am not that high of a priority to anyone.  I think it triggered a fear of being abandoned again as it seems like no one ever sticks around.  I think I even had convinced myself that I wouldn't miss them if/when I move to Atlanta with the excuse that I see them so rarely anyway.  My fancy meal out Thursday night after everyone cancelled on me was probably at least partly a coping skill to deal with the disappointment.

But there is nuance to this.  As expected, I don't have the same level of connection and depth to everyone in my community.  And it just so happens that the one I'm the closest to and who probably has the most interest in making time for me has the most overwhelming other responsibilities in her life.  So more casual friendships that very reasonably don't prioritize me combined with deeper friendships with people who are a bit overwhelmed in life at the moment created this unsettling lull.  And the damage done to my trust from the divorce made me a little too quick to write it all off.

Nights like this

Some friends and I had set aside this evening to get together without setting firm plans.  As the day came closer, I reached out to finalize plans and one by one, they all bowed out.  This is the third attempt in two months to try and get together with these friends.  It looks like a pattern that doesn't feel too good.  But that is not what I want to write about today.

You see, I took this free evening as an opportunity.  I have been wanting to go back to that really nice Japanese restaurant for quite some time now.  So on my way there, I passed through the park and admired the new leaves on the trees and the blooming irises.  There was a giddiness in me that bubbled over.

At the restaurant, I ordered the sushi appetizer with smoke that left me in awe and I tried a new cocktail with ceremonial grade matcha in it (whatever that is) and I took the waitress's suggestion for a chicken dish that was recently added to their menu.  Everything was so beautiful in its presentation.  Every bite and sip was like inhaling a little bit of joy.  It wasn't just a meal.  It was an experience.

Then I walked home and stopped in the package room to get the items I had ordered online earlier this week - a new dress and a new jumper that may be my favorite new outfit.  It's colorful.  It's funky.  And it is so me.

And the evening ended with a call from my parents.  I feel so grateful for the depth that has developed in our relationships since the divorce.  They have not only been a solid support every single step of the way but we have also grown so much closer.  I enjoy their conversations so much.

So as I sit here enjoying the night air that fills my apartment, reflecting on the night, I can't help but smile.  It almost feels like more joy than is possible in a single night.  I'm going to hold onto this feeling.

A communication pattern that left me constantly confused

I don't know what made me think of this but there was a pattern in my ex-husband's communication that used to drive me absolutely nuts.  Now that I have healthier interactions with family and friends around me, I realize how incredibly toxic this pattern was.  And it is so wonderful to not have to experience it anymore.

Whenever he told a story (even mundane day to day stories) or tried to explain his thought process on something, there would be significant gaps in the story that made it very difficult to follow what he was saying or understand him.  I would ask follow up questions or sometimes even pause him mid-story because I had no clue what he was talking about which would just make him so irritated with me.  My mind was always in a state of constant confusion as I tried to piece together the few pieces of the puzzle he would give me.

And then he would criticize me for asking too many questions as if it was my fault he was leaving out key details.  I always wondered if he expected me to be able to read his mind.  But maybe there was something he gained by keeping me confused.

Maybe this is just not my week

They started the exercise classes in the park for the year, so I joined Hip Hop Cardio this evening.  It was the same instructor that I really liked from last year.  And she started the routine with the same song and routine she always did.  And that is where the familiarity ended.  

We quickly went from new song to new song with too many different moves that I couldn't see well from my vantage point in the back and so couldn't follow.  And she didn't take time between songs to walk us through a few of the key steps like she did last year.  That's when I realized she wasn't talking to us at all and seemed to have no microphone.  Hopefully, it just wasn't working this week and next week will be back to what I remember from last year.  Because I wasn't getting anything out of tonight's class and so I left after a half hour.

That's two nights in a row where I went to a dance class full of hope and excitement and left feeling disappointed.  Although yesterday was more about me and my headspace.  Today was probably a combination of my headspace and outside circumstances.  

I wonder if this waiting game after a deflating application process over the weekend has left me with some underlying unsettled feelings.  

Or maybe it is frustration over the start of the paining project at work that I fully expect to include a lot of chaos.  They are so adamant that telework isn't an option that I fear we will all be frozen (from the AC being on full blast to try to help with ventilation) and sick from the fumes before the month is over.  I still have to pack up my office and find space in my 500 square foot studio to temporarily store my personal work stuff.

But all of this seems so small on a day that started with a message from our president that "a whole civilization will die".

Stuck in my head

I got stuck in my head this evening.

When I get really frustrated and struggle with successfully doing something I want to do, tears well up in my eyes and I lose clarity, both of which are very counterproductive.  But there is such a stubbornness in me that refuses to give up so I keep trying, even though the fog of frustration often means I continue to stumble.  I get stuck in my head in a way that is hard to shake.

It doesn't happen with every challenge. I think it's times when my mindset isn't in the right place for such a challenge - the perfect storm.

Tonight as I stood in the middle of my African Rhythms class, the drums beating, people's feet moving and arms swaying around me, I couldn't make sense of the movements and so my feet stayed stuck.  Eventually, I forced them to do something as I stumbled to follow.

In a break, the instructor asked each of us how we were feeling.  I admitted I was feeling "a bit more lost today."  She encouraged us all to just focus on the feet and keep the arms steady, if we were struggling - one thing at a time.  And then she focused extra encouragement my direction and danced along side me as my line made its way forward.  

All evening, I wavered between stumbling and then finding a move I felt more confident in and then stumbling again.  Every time my line came to the front, I tried to see it as a new start.

I never gave up.  I made it through the entire class.  But I was disappointed as I walked out, in the way my head interfered with the normal de-stressing effect of giving into the rhythms and movements of my body.

A Lent without Social Media - what's next now that Lent is over?

Social media - the good, the bad, the ugly.

On Ash Wednesday, I deleted Facebook, Instagram, and Threads from my phone and closed those tabs on my laptop.  I told myself I would take a break from social media this Lent.

It was an impulse in reaction to the mindless way I found myself navigating to my ex-husband's Instagram page on a day when I knew he was on a cruise with his new fiancee.  And not just any cruise, the deposit from that cruise came from one of the trips we had booked together during a time period he was lying about how much he loved me and how great things were going between us.  In that moment on Ash Wednesday, I realized there was nothing healthy about reminding myself of that wound.

It's Easter today.  Lent is over.  I've peaked at my accounts on my iPad but haven't redownloaded the apps on my phone or reopened the windows on the laptop I use so much.  And I haven't posted anything yet.  I hesitate because social media has such a complicated effect.

I was among the last of people I knew to join any platforms.  Even my parents had Facebook accounts before I had anything.  I still remember the day I joined Instagram.  I was at the Milwaukee Art Museum at an after-hours silent disco event in the middle of the dance floor with my headphones on.  My ex-husband was actually out there dancing with me which upon reflection is a bit strange - he hated to dance and I can only count on one hand the number of times he danced with me.  This would be one of those times.

But back to the story, they had a giant screen up on the wall that was displaying what looked like people's photos live from the event.  I wanted to join in with my own photo so as I danced, I created an Instagram account, took a photo, typed the right hashtag so the Art Museum would find my photo, and a few minutes later saw my own photo up on the screen.

Slowly my Instagram account then morphed into a curated account of my photography as that hobby grew and my photography skills really improved.  Then at some point, when we started traveling more, I created a second account to celebrate my love of traveling.  These accounts have been an overwhelming positive space for me.  They are communities of people around the world with shared interests.

I almost wish my ex-husband had never joined Instagram.  I don't know why he did.  He was anti-social media for much of our marriage and given his career did his best to minimize his online presence.  Maybe it was during the pandemic he joined?  I don't remember exactly.  But this was the only platform he ever joined, at least that I'm aware of.  It is only the temptation of navigating to his account that makes me hesitate to jump back into Instagram.  Otherwise, I miss those communities.

I joined Facebook during the pandemic because my church was doing so much on Facebook to keep everyone connected when we couldn't meet in person.  I've kept my friends list limited to just those who I have met in person.  It's given me a chance to keep more up to date on cousins and extended family I never get to see.  It's been a way to foster friendships with people at church.  

And since the separation, it has been an outlet for me to write and share a little bit of my experience - a carefully curated version of this blog that my friends interact with.  There is a depth to what I write but it exists on a superficial platform.  It is a way to share an authentic piece of me but still carefully selected piece of that authenticity.  It's not a replacement for the deeper conversations that I long for but it is a way to feel seen and heard after decades of feeling invisible.  It has helped me feel just a little less alone in my journey.

But I hate the Facebook algorithm.  Mixed in with the posts I want to read from my friends are unsolicited posts and videos that so often are targeted at what I am struggling with most at that time.  

And I was really getting sick of the astrology posts which were so quick to remind me that a Capricorn and a Sagittarius could never make it as a couple, although the reasons given were so far off from the reality of my ex-husband and I.  Maybe those posts were a bit triggering because later in our marriage, my ex-husband suddenly started taking an interest in astrology and even went to get a reading several times, including that last spring.  I've often wondered what role that played in the end.  It seemed like one more thing to feed into some distorted version of what life should be vs what in reality it is.

So the really positive aspects of Facebook get lost in an algorithm meant to pull me down and feed into my negative emotions.  Isn't it sad how anger, bitterness, and even war are money makers?  Peace doesn't sell because it is boring.  How do I hang onto those positive interactions and writing outlet in Facebook without letting the negativity of the algorithm pull me down?

That leaves Threads - I turned to Threads as a way to get a pulse on what people think.  I had lost my subscription to the Washington Post and really missed the interactions I would have in the comments sections.  It also became a place where I could connect with other women with similar experiences for support and encouragement and to feel a little less alone.

One positive thing about Threads is that it is the easiest algorithm to manipulate.  So as long as I stay self-aware of how the content is affecting me, I can shift what I see when it turns too negative by just interacting more with the content that makes me feel more positive.  On the flip side, that also means, I don't get as accurate of a representation of reality because I'm in control of the pieces of the world I see.  It can quickly feel like everyone believes "X" on Threads when in reality, I'm only being shown posts with "X" viewpoint.

All this discussion of social media and its effect on me reminds me of something I read recently about the uniqueness of my micro-generation, Xennials.  I was in my teens when we entered the digital world.  I was old enough to remember and have learned to navigate the world before it and my brain was still maturing making it easy to learn the digital world without the anxiety that so often comes with learning something new as an adult.  This leaves me feeling fully confident in either world but it doesn't make me immune from the harmful effects of algorithms.

I don't know how I'm going to navigate some sort of re-entry into social media, maybe just one step at a time.  I know I have a ton of tulip photos from my trip to the Atlanta Botanical Garden a few weeks back that I would love to share on Instagram.  Maybe I'll start there as that is probably my positive space.

Application submitted

Yesterday evening, I hit submit on my application for the job in Atlanta.  I didn't answer the optional essay questions that weren't sitting well with me.  And then I immediately got an e-mail about three online assessments I needed to take.

I started the first one right away.  It reminded me of the LSAT.  There was a time years ago, when I really got into the logic questions of the LSAT.  I can remember the workbooks and practice tests I poured over one summer.  I always thought I was fairly good at them.  These though, seemed harder and some of them didn't seem to have a right answer.  There is one that even after the fact, I've replayed many times the various possible answers and none of the choices they gave fit.  I don't know if I'm just not as sharp as I used to be and I was missing something or if these were more poorly written or even just wrong.

It was deflating and it probably didn't help that I was also still wondering if I had made the right decision about the essays.  So I closed my computer figuring I could do the other two assessments in the morning, put my shoes on, and headed out to happy hour at the Greek restaurant next door.  The bartender I enjoy chatting with was working so the evening went by fast.  Plus, a couple of older men sat next to me for a while that were really fun to chat with.  

It was enough to put me in a bit of a better mindset to be able to sleep decently last night.  Then this morning after my coffee, I opened up my laptop and clicked on the link to take the last two assessments.  I question their value as it relates to this job but at least these seemed quite a bit easier, although quite time consuming.

With those complete, I felt like I could breathe easier.  I had managed everything within my control.  Whatever comes of this will turn out just as it is supposed to.

So I walked to the grocery store in this beautiful weather, bought myself flowers, picked up my favorite lunch from Cava on the way home, had a nice phone call with my parents, and started thinking about whether I wanted to plan a full weekend in Atlanta to see more of Midtown.  

Struggles

I froze last night.  I ended my therapy session with a lot of thoughts and feelings bouncing around in my head and body as a headache started to form.  I opened up my blog to write but nothing would come out.  

So then I turned to my job application and the new essay questions they have added to the process.  And I got stuck on how I felt about the questions so never even got to the point of writing the first word in response.  At one point, I put my sandals on and went for a walk to try and clear my head but the problem wasn't a lack of clarity so it didn't actually help.

As I drifted off to sleep, I weighed the pros and cons in my head of not answering the essay questions.  The instructions say they are not required and will not be scored, but what does that actually mean?  The current times we are in as well as my healing journey from my divorce has repeatedly reminded me of the option of deciding not to take a particular action.  I don't know if that is the right choice here or not.

It's kind of interesting how re-finding myself after the divorce has brought out in me a better alignment with my values and morals and thus a better awareness of the ways I was not in alignment.  It has made me a lot more intentional about the ways I move through life.  And it comes at a time that has repeatedly tested my ability to weigh consequences and find creative ways to stay in alignment.  If I had still been married, I don't think I would have had that much awareness to be this intentional.

So after really struggling last evening, I went to bed feeling a bit down and like I had accomplished nothing.  But I think that dismisses the value of the struggle and the analysis playing through my head.  My best decisions come when I give myself some space to struggle with them.  A lot of growth has come from this intentional way I'm now looking at life.

I'll figure this out and get my application submitted this weekend.  And then I'll start packing up my office because whether I get this job or not, my current employer will be painting later this month and my walls are presently covered with my photos.  Hopefully, my office personal stuff will be able to just stay in boxes until I'm in a new space.

My Dad cares

My Dad sensed I was struggling a bit this week after we talked on Saturday and so he asked when he could call me this week.  For context, they are currently on a cruise in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.  In the past when they have traveled, they have kept their phone in the safe and I have had to be satisfied with e-mails.

Is this what it feels like to have someone actually care about me?  What would it have been like to have a husband pay attention to my moods and actually care if I was doing okay?

What a wild day

I'm so tired and what a wild, wild day this was.

I didn't sleep well last night at all except for the short time right before my alarm woke me up in a deeper part of my sleep.  So this morning I was groggy and moving really slowly.  And it's the start of my period so I'm not feeling my best.

Then on my scooter ride in, I witnessed a car collide with a runner.  The car was pulling out of a parking garage when it happened so fortunately, not going very fast.  The runner walked away so I hope that means she was okay.  The driver's apologies through the car window sounded a bit insincere.  Almost everyone that I see pull out of the parking garages on my daily commute is on their cell phone.  Rarely do they even notice pedestrians on the sidewalk, so I'm not at all surprised this happened.  It was very alarming to watch. 

Then mid-morning, I got an e-mail that the Atlanta job would post today.  So my day was filled with refreshing the job posting website over and over, with no sign of a posting all day.  Hurry up and wait.

This afternoon, I then downloaded our semi-annual analysis that helps us develop leads.  After I download it, I always save a copy of it onto a portable hard drive with the prior analyses so that I can easily access any time period depending on the investigation I'm working on.  I also make a copy for my colleague on his portable hard drive. Well, it turns out the change in encryption software has made our drives read-only until we reformat them and re-encrypt them (which would erase everything).  

I don't want to keep track of multiple drives, so I have begun the painstaking process of copying all 1 TB of files from my drive onto a temporary location so that I can then reformat and re-encrypt the drive before moving it all back and finally add the new analysis.  This will be days and days of work that I had not anticipated.

As I left my computer running to continue the copying process, I headed home and managed to get my brand new dress caught in my scooter where it ripped a huge hole.  This was my first day wearing it.  It doesn't appear to be salvageable.  

On a positive note though, tonight was my second African Rhythms dance class.  It was a chance to just forget about the outside world and let the stress of the day flow off me as my feet moved to the beat of the drums.  My feet are really sore (we dance barefoot) and my body is exhausted but my mind is a bit more settled.  I'm now ready to face the rest of the week, whatever may come.  It is only Monday so there are a lot of days left for it to get better.

Cold feet

As I laid down to take a nap yesterday afternoon, I moved my cold feet to the corner of the bed where the sun was shining through the open patio door.  The warmth was inviting and comforting as my feet peaked out from underneath the flannel quilt I was curled up under.

But then my mind reflected back on all the times I cuddled with my ex-husband before we fell asleep and the way he would cringe if my perpetually cold feet even accidentally touched his skin.  I remember feeling guilty as over the years our nightly cuddle time felt more and more like an obligation to me.  

As a wife, I thought I should want to cuddle with him.  But in hindsight, I see that it was just one more example of the one-way nature of our relationship.  He didn't care what I needed.  He didn't care about my cold feet.  He didn't care if I was comfortable. It was just about meeting his needs for comfort.  No wonder it felt like an obligation.

As I lay on the bed yesterday afternoon with the sun warming my feet, I then wondered why nothing ever reminded me of good memories.  Do I have good memories with him?  I have good memories of trips and events over the years where he either wasn't present or I disconnected him from the memory because of how much I disassociated.  

But do I have any good memories with him?  It seems that every time I think I have a good memory with him, I realize it was a fantasy version of the memory I was holding onto, not the reality of it.  And when that fantasy version disintegrates, the memory isn’t so pleasant anymore.  Or it was me making the moment with very little participation from him.

Karma

What exactly is karma?  Does it truly exist?

I watched a Grey's Anatomy episode recently where a man was cheating on his wife and while he was with his affair partner, a wrecking ball came through the home where they were (instead of the neighbor's house that was supposed to be demolished), burying both him and his affair partner in the rubble of the house.  The wife learned about the affair when the wrecking ball incident made the news.  Is this a fictional example of karma?

Then last night I watched a movie called Moving On.  A woman was raped by one of her best friend's husband decades earlier.  In the movie, she showed up at her friend's funeral with the intent to kill him now that no harm could come to her friend.  Spoiler alert, despite several almost successful attempts, in the end she watched him get run over by someone else in an accident in a parking lot.  That's obviously another fictional example that mixes in a bit of the concept of revenge as well with the idea of karma getting the last say.

Fiction though is often based on what we believe about life.  I have a friend that has told me many times, karma will come when I stop caring about the pain my ex-husband caused, when I finally let go.  I don't know what to believe.  So many people go through life treating everyone horribly and little bad seems to happen to them.

In searching for answers (you knew as an Enneagram five, I was going to research this), I came across this idea that karma matures.  Karma is both the intentional action we take and the consequences that come from that action but there is a maturation process between the two.  It's like the seeds of corn may get planted in the spring (the intentional action) but they aren't ready to harvest until the late summer/fall (the consequences of that intentional action).  Many even believe that karma follows you from lifetime to lifetime so you may not see all the consequences until a future lifetime.  Good and bad things can happen to us during this process where our karma is maturing and we can be collateral damage in someone else's karma.  

I still don't know if I believe all of that.  But what I do know is that when I do something good, I immediately feel good and when I do something bad, I immediately feel bad.  For me there is an immediate effect to the intentional actions I take that in some ways follows the idea of karma.  Furthermore, good decisions are more likely to result in good outcomes than bad decisions are.

When I reflect on my relationship with my now ex-husband and my role in it, I feel good about the part I played.  Not that I was always perfect but throughout the years, I purposefully self-reflected and adjusted to grow as a partner and as a person.  I loved as unconditionally as is possible in an adult relationship.  I invested in him and in us.  I supported him in his dreams.  I made space for and encouraged his relationship with his mom despite how poorly she treated me.  

All of those intentional actions I took made me feel good about myself and left room for me to still experience the joy in life.  It meant the difference between a miserable existence and a challenging more neutral existence.  That difference may seem small but it isn't.  My ex-husband demonstrated what a miserable existence looks like and I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy.  Maybe that is the karma already at work.  Although, really I would like to get to a point of indifference as to what karma he may or may not be experiencing.  

Lolita

I've got music playing.  The window is cracked open to let in some fresh air.  And I'm cleaning out my closet.  I have too much clothes that I don't wear and the small space has gotten to be quite a mess as I switch back and forth between hot and cold weather.  So I went in hoping to find plenty I can donate so there is more space for organization and the pile is growing so it is a success already, even though I'm far from done.

But I just came across a t-shirt, pushed back into a far corner, that made my breath catch in the back of my throat.  It's dark brown with the Volkswagen logo on it.  I bought it to match the car I was driving at the time.  I named that car Lolita.  She was a beautiful chocolate brown five speed Jetta TDI with a tan interior.  She and I spent so many hours on the road together because at that time my daily round-trip commute was about 80 miles which included rush hour at times.  She was fun to drive.  She was smooth and comfortable.  And she would get over 50 mpg which I found fascinating.

I chuckle as I read that paragraph above.  Towards the end, my ex-husband expressed disappointment that I never shared with him his interest in cars.  But that paragraph above reflects quite a bit of interest that existed at some point before his obsession started to highlight his inconsideration and before it put me in an almost parent-like role of having to say no or slow him down when his impulses weren't in our best interests.

I don't remember how much time I had with Lolita before we moved on to the next car but it wasn't long enough.  I don't remember pushing back though at this point in our marriage when he wanted to sell it for something else.  I'm not even sure it crossed my mind that it was an option to push back.  This was just how we did things as a couple.  Trading in cars on what often felt like a whim.  Moving on when he was bored.  I think I just saw it as the price to pay for loving him and I had convinced myself it was such a small price to pay.  What woman wouldn't like the luxury of always having a car still new enough to be under warranty?  In hindsight, I know though that it is a lot more complicated than that overly simplistic question.

I drove some other fun cars over the years but none felt as comfortable and right as Lolita did.  So as I hold this t-shirt today, I feel a loss, a complicated grief.  It's a good, nostalgic memory wrapped in a larger context of inconsideration, self-absorption, and childish impulses.  And maybe it's a loss I never really allowed myself to grieve.  

Anxiety, laughter, flow of energy, and a disconnect

I met with a friend for lunch yesterday whose anxiety about the world is palpable.  I don't blame her.  She has a lot going on personally and professionally, she probably takes on more than she should in life, and it feels like our greater world is on fire.  But it created a feeling of disconnect as I sat fairly calmly and peacefully across from her.  

She asked me how I was managing.  Without hesitation, I said, "I'm done giving my energy to narcissists."  It's a phrase that has echoed in my head over and over since I said it yesterday.  I think I was talking about our larger world and politics when I said it but there is truth to it even on a personal level.  Not that I mean to label certain people as narcissists (you know how I hate labels) but it was the narcissistic tendencies in certain individuals in my personal and professional life that I wasted way too much energy on.

I then went on to tell her about the power of joy and how it can be our biggest defense.  We do far more good by spreading joy in our immediate world than we could ever do worrying about the larger world.

Finally, I shared that sometimes you just have laugh as a more positive release and to keep things in perspective.  I shared a story from years ago.  She was the second person I have told this story to in recent days because it is on my mind a lot as I pay attention to my reactions to life.

Years ago, I was working for a very small family-owned office.  I was the only steady support staff so carried a lot of weight and worked a lot of hours.  My large desk and extra table were usually piled really high with papers of the many different things I was working on.  

One winter morning after a large snowfall, I walked in early before any other staff had arrived.  Overnight, the weight of the snow had caused the roof above my desk to buckle and melted snow had flowed down over my entire desk.

I could have chose to curl up in a ball and cry.  I could have walked right back out that door and never come back.  I could have yelled or screamed or looked for someone to blame.  I could have just thrown it all away and not worried about what projects wouldn't get finished.

But what bubbled up in me was laughter, probably hysterical laughter.  It was just such an absurd situation and for it to have targeted the one desk of the person who carried so much of the load seemed crazy.  So I laughed and laughed as I emptied the water out of my keyboard, as I spread out the papers to dry, as I started a to do list, etc.

I found a way to release the pent up emotions, recalibrate my perspective, and take control of the small pieces within my reach to make the situation better.  That seems like such an important reminder for the times I am in and maybe that is why this scene from so many years ago keeps replaying in my head.

It's so easy to get wrapped up in the anxieties of things we can't control.  It's so easy to get overwhelmed when the world feels like it is on fire.  It is so easy to hold onto the anger and bitterness when the actions of others cause us harm.  It's the latter one I struggle the most with right now.  Even as I project calm, peace, and joy, my body still holds the pain, my mind still sometimes keeps me up at night, and I still swear under my breath at the cruelty and unfairness of it all.

Going back to this lunch I had with this friend.  I'm not sure it was a good use of my energy.  The last year and a half has highlighted a one way flow of energy with her that probably always existed in our friendship.  I have enough going on with myself and my own struggles that I need friendships where energy flows both ways.  I don't always want to be the one soothing someone else's anxieties and overwhelming emotions.  I want to surround myself with people who will also sit with me in my emotions - not take them on for me but sit with me in them.

Life feels a bit empty this week

Life feels a bit empty this week.  My joy falls a little bit flat.  My motivation is a bit lacking.  My routines seem a bit too routine and not as comfortable as they had been.  My sleep has been quite fitful with hours that I lay awake (quite a contrast from this past weekend's restful, uninterrupted sleep).  And even as I dig into a good case at work, it's hard to hold onto its meaningfulness.  

It's not a bad week though.  I really enjoyed the African Rhythms class on Monday.  Last night's choir practice was uplifting and energizing.  Soon, I'm going to head out into this beautiful weather for an evening at the art museum with a friend and maybe dinner on the way, if I can decide what I want.  Work is quiet with spring break but I have an interesting case to work on.  Tomorrow I'm supposed to go out to lunch with a friend.  And I've been doing some travel planning for next year - booking tours, setting my budget, etc. - the dreaming part of travel which I love.

So what's leaving me feeling empty, like something is missing?

I'm still waiting for Atlanta.  I suppose that is weighing on me.

The bucket list trip I was suppose be on this week pops into my head from time to time.

I've been a bit frustrated about how most of my married friends have such busy lives they can't commit to much and often cancel even when they do say yes.  I could probably use some more single friends.  I wish I had one or two that were available to talk more, who would proactively check in on me sometimes.

And I wonder what the effect of the empty apartment on the first floor is.  I still don't think I'm very good at interpreting the way my nervous system responds despite the fact that I'm much more aware than ever before.  My gut tells me that it is affecting me more than I want to admit.

A totally bizarre dream

I have absolutely no idea what this might mean or what exactly was processing in my brain but I want to record this really bizarre dream I had last night.

In my dream I became the mother of 10 newborns.  I don't have a clue where they came from.  There was nothing about being pregnant or giving birth in this dream and ten seems an unlikely number.  All my newborns were lined up in a grid of what I can only describe as cubbyholes if they were turned on their side.  At all times throughout the dream, I had one of them in my arms although I would go back to the grid of babies and exchange it for another from time to time.  They all had name tags on them.  I guess I don't know how else I would have been able to tell them apart. 

During this dream, I was at a party to celebrate their births so there were people mingling all around me although none of them were holding any of my babies.  There was a sense that my ex-husband was there and I noted a gift from him on the table but he wasn't in a co-parent role and I don't know that I ever actually saw him.  I just sensed his presence and remember seeing the car related toy on the gift table that I believed was a toy from his own possessions.  

There was only one moment where I saw one of the babies cry and it was the one I was holding in my arms at that moment, so I saw myself soothing the baby as I chatting with a guest at the party.  At no point during my dream did I see myself feeding or changing a baby.  You would have thought that at some point one (or more likely many) of them would have needed something during the party.

And then I woke up.

Kind of a weird day

I had kind of a weird day with a few unrelated awkward moments that briefly pulled me back into the past.

I got a voicemail at work from a man at a state entity who was following up on an e-mail I had sent in November of 2024.  Yes, he was working on a request I had made a year and a half ago.  I couldn't even find the e-mail in my outlook folders to know what case the request might have been relevant to.  I didn't even know what last name I would have used on that e-mail as that was the month everything transitioned over.  Did the contact info he had of me have my married name or my current name?

When I called him at the number he left in the voicemail, a woman answered the phone.  She indicated I had called his wife's phone and wanted to know what this was regarding.  I have to admit I was really puzzled and stumbled when I explained I was returning his call in his role at [state entity].  I told her I would try the number on the caller ID.  After I hung up, I couldn't recall if I had actually identified myself or if I had left her wondering why some strange woman was calling for her husband.

Then this evening as I was leaving my apartment complex to go to my first African Rhythms dance class, I  passed by my maintenance man sitting on a bench talking to another maintenance man.  The other man greeted me first and asked if I had previously lived at a certain apartment complex.  I admitted I had.  He then went on to confirm that I was on the fifth floor in a corner unit.  

As he was asking me these questions, I was trying to recall who the maintenance staff had been.  I couldn't.  I probably blocked them out of my mind because maintenance issues (although with a neglectful management and a rotating door of property managers) had been the reason we had left.  I commented that was quite a few years ago.  He recalled it was as recent as 2023.  I agreed that was when we left.  

He then asked about my husband.  I think this is the first time I've faced this question.  The circle of people who knew us together is quite small and they mostly all saw the divorce happen.  So I haven't really, until this point, run into anyone who both knew I had been married and didn't already know we had divorced.

I paused only a moment before I said, "my ex-husband."  I then turned to my regular maintenance man and said "and I hope he has finally moved out."  My regular maintenance man said, "I think he has."

I kind of laughed as I walked through the park to my class.  It was such an unexpected encounter with someone who remembered me so well but who I could not recall.

And then after I checked in for my class and sat down on a bench to wait for it to start, a woman sat next to me and told me that I looked really familiar.  She couldn't place where she might know me from and I didn't recognize her.  I don't know if she is someone I should remember or if my face just reminds her of someone else.

A Bucket List Trip

Yesterday, we would have boarded the Oosterdam in the port near Santiago, Chile.  The itinerary followed the western coast of South America with stops in Chile, Peru, and Ecuador.  We had planned to book the Machu Picchu multi-day excursion, disembarking the ship in I believe Pisco and then re-embarking in the port near Lima.  The ship would have then continued north and passed through the Panama Canal.  The Oosterdam is a small enough ship to go through the old locks with the mules.  I haven't been through the old locks yet.  After the 17 day cruise, we would have then disembarked in Fort Lauderdale.

This was a bucket list cruise for me in two ways - Machu Picchu and the old locks.

He knew this was a bucket list cruise for me.  And based on how close to the end we booked this and the fact that he told me all the love notes he left me in the last months were just lies, he had to have known he wasn't going to stay with me.  Yet, he booked it anyway.

There just seems so many layers to his cruelty.

There were so many things he did all the way until the very end to convince me that things were good between us and that he was still planning for a future with me, all at the same time he was silently planning his exit.

Perspective

This magnet is attached to my fridge.  My Dad printed it for me I think in late 2021 or early 2022.  It encompasses one of my photos with a phrase I have always believed in.  It's what I use to identify my cruise cabin (when I remember to pack it and if the cabin door is metal).  It was my Dad's idea to print magnets for us all to help us find ours and each others' cabins on family cruises.  We all picked different images that we had taken.  He even printed one for my former mother-in-law as she was traveling with us on that early 2022 cruise through the Panama Canal.

I remember the day I took the photo.  We had checked out of our beach front hotel and were stopping at a couple of bird hotspots on the drive home from the Gulf coast.  This was on a stretch of beach after my ex-husband had turned around to go back to the car.  He often turned around before me.  Maybe that was a blessing because that has left me with many untainted memories where he wasn't even present.  In the moment I snapped the photo, I didn't realize exactly what I was looking at.  Often my camera captures more than my mind can process in the moment.  Maybe that's why I like bird photography vs just bird watching with a pair of binoculars.

Sitting in the passenger seat, as he drove us north towards home, I had my laptop out so that I could download and start editing photos.  When this one popped up on my screen, I remember the delight I felt.  This is a juvenile Black Skimmer, which was a new species to me at that time and the yoga like pose he was in created such an intriguing image.  Although I rarely get to see it because I have too many darn windows open, this photo is also the backdrop of my MacBook screen.  

Like the paintings I wrote about earlier in this post that seemed to have darker messages than I remember consciously feeling, I wonder what I had buried that made me feel so strongly about always readjusting my perspective.  It's a great skill to take stock of our perspective and what other perspectives exist when reacting to anything so on its surface this seems like a great life mantra.  But looking for a new perspective shouldn't be at the expense of the reality that exists.

I twisted myself into yoga positions like this young shorebird so many times to find the perspective that excused bad behavior, diminished cruelty, and tolerated what I never should have tolerated.

Maybe the better question to ask is how to do I stay better in tune with my feelings so that I can make decisions with more information in the future?  How can I keep myself open to all perspectives without dismissing my own reality?

Sleep, a sign of finding some peace, at least for the moment

Two nights in a row, I slept through the night, not even with my typical 3am wake up to use the toilet.  Each morning I woke up for the first (and last) time around 5:00 a.m. which is the rhythm my body had gotten into since the separation.

What a contrast that was from the weeks leading up to this weekend where I seemed to wake every couple of hours.  I even had one night last week where I was repeating the same dream every time I fell asleep that predicted the trajectory of the entire night and every wake up to the correct time.  It was like a ground hogs day scenario in my dreams that became reality.

But back to this weekend, I feel rested.  I'm not even sore from my long walk yesterday.  It isn't even 8am yet and I've enjoyed my coffee and breakfast and the bathroom has been cleaned.  There is a sense of peace in this morning.

Friday night, I spent several hours people watching as I sipped wine in a wine garden downtown.  I recognized and appreciated the unrushed way of authentic life and wrote a few lines in my journal reflecting that.

leaves wave in the breeze

bright yellow chairs fill the space

laughter rises over music

life trickles in

Yesterday, I stopped in at my favorite restaurant for a drink and chocolate cake.  In that space, I realized how full my life is with some of the greatest pleasures like chocolate cake, positivity, and people who know my name.  I pour into me (and the things I love like chocolate cake and a glass of wine in a wine garden).  I no longer have a shadow pointing out everything wrong with the world around me so can focus on the joys and positive things in life.  And the energy I have because of all I'm doing to pour into me leaves space for reciprocal connections with so many different people.

Then my parents called me last night.  The sun had set here but it was mid-afternoon where they cruised out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, several species of Albatross following their ship.  Although, they had talked about trying out wifi calling, I wasn't sure I would hear from them during their 32 day journey, which I knew would feel like a long time.  There aren't words to express the gratitude I feel for the ways our relationships have grown and the ways they have supported me over the last 18 months.

Oh, and there was a Penske truck parked near my ex-husband's side of the building yesterday and I noticed the rest of the stuff on his balcony disappeared at some point during the day.  I didn't run into him so I don't know for sure it was his but I felt a bit of hope that maybe he would finally be gone.

So with all of those amazing positive, I slept peacefully and restfully.

Fear

I went for a walk today.  It was a beautiful day.  About 2.5 miles from my home, up about 300 feet of elevation, is a park that overlooks the entire city.  The view even from the park is breathtaking.  Standing in the middle of this park is a tower with a sculpture of Vulcan on the top that you can climb 160 steps to get an even higher view.  When you reach the top, there is an open grate walkway that circles the tower for 360 views.

It was a quiet morning up at the top of the tower.  I imagine the fact that the elevator wasn't working deterred many.  Or maybe I was just there before it got very busy.  When I got to the top of the stairs, there was a family of four stopped in the entry way just before stepping out onto the grated walkway.  Their oldest (maybe 12ish) had stepped out onto the walkway and was almost dancing as he tried to tell them how great it was out there.  The other three were petrified of stepping out.  I eventually did see them come out but only for a very short time to get a photo.

Then I had the top to myself for a bit before a family of 3 arrived.  Their young son was almost taunting the woman who I assume was his mother (who was clearly terrified) while a man who I assume was the dad filmed it all on his phone.  Gone are the days when your vulnerable moments were just memories in the minds of the people you were with, memories that would fade over time, not be captured on video for eternity.

A bit later, a lone man peaked his head around the corner.  I was standing in the shady section where there was a nice breeze, opposite the exit from the stairs.  He admitted he was terrified of heights and hadn't realized it would be so open.

That's eight different people I encountered with five of them facing a pretty strong fear.  The irony as I leaned against the railing and even looked down and felt nothing but awe of the view, is that I was once them.

It really made me contemplate what fear is and how we overcome it.  If you were to ask me what I did to overcome my fear of heights, I would tell you that I just got tired of being afraid.  But does that even logically make sense.  Can one's exhaustion with fear really be enough for it to just disappear.  Fear plays an important role in keeping us safe, although it can also get in the way of living and so I'm not sure it's a rational thought process we can just make go away.

So why is it that I could so easily enjoy these heights today when a few years ago, they would have created such anxiety I struggled to enjoy the benefit of the view?

Sometimes I wonder if the trauma from the divorce didn't completely re-write my brain.  What seemed impossible before now feels comfortable.

I'm fine, really, or so I'm good at telling myself.

I have gotten so good at making the best of any situation, of convincing myself I'm fine maybe as a coping mechanism to get through, that I often don't notice the negative effect on me in the moment.  The most obvious example of that is the chronic pain that developed in my first year or two of marriage that I carried with me until we separated.  My body was physically trying to get me to notice the negative effect of my marriage on me, yet I ignored it as I focused on making the best of a marriage that wasn't quite what I had hoped it to be.

I think I did it again when we separated.  Everyone around me was surprised that my ex-husband (the one who asked for the divorce) was choosing to stay so close by staying in the same apartment building.  Along the way, people even pointed out how it was affecting me.  But I was quick to reassure everyone that I was fine, that I wasn't willing to let his decisions affect me anymore.  I had convinced myself that I got this even if I wasn't very successful at convincing those in my circle supporting me.

Eighteen months later, I am realizing what a real disservice he did to my healing.  I'm sure it didn't help that he chose a first floor unit that looked out into common space that I couldn't easily avoid.  And he knew my schedule, making it seem a little less than coincidence the multiple times encountered him with his new girlfriend.  

His choices all seem really ugly to me right now.  I'm really disgusted at the man I once actually believed was my soulmate.  I can't wait until he finally fully moves out.  And I look forward to the day I can start a new chapter in a new city where I won't even encounter his ghost, let alone him in person.

Distractions and Straddling the past and future

In therapy today, my therapist gave the metaphor of straddling the past and the future after I talked about how much good there currently is that is distracting me from the ruminations.  But as I think about it more, I think it's the opposite.  He is the distraction from all the good in my present life and plans for my future life.

I found a comedian on YouTube and watched one of his recent shows.  His first 25 minutes were about an actor I do not know but his message about the arts aligned so much with me that I smiled and laughed along with his entire dialogue and then he turned to very relatable politics.  As I sit here ready to press play on another one of his videos, I can't help but reflect on the shift I've made to better align my life with me, my values, my priorities, my interests, etc.

So as I get back to this next video and the puzzle I'm working on, I'm going to focus on what aligns and drown out the distractions of what no longer does.  I'm going to stand more solidly in the present and not let myself get pulled back into the past.  I'd rather straddle the present and the future in this time of transition.  There's much to love about the here and now.

Missing something I never had

Is it possible to miss something you never actually had?  I always imagined marriage to be having someone to talk life with, a daily companion to share our thoughts on the world - both our immediate world and the larger context of current events.

I thought I initially had that in my ex-husband but then I started to see how irritated he got when my thoughts didn't perfectly align with his.  He would get defensive when I just wanted dialogue.  He would hear my curiosity on differences of opinion as criticism.  (And no, it didn't matter the tone I used or the words I chose - I spent too many years trying to communicate better with him with absolutely no success because the problem still existed as to what he was willing to hear and how he was willing to interpret it.)  

By the end, he didn't even want to hear anything I had to say on politics, current events, or anything really.  As we separated, he made comments that made me think he wanted me to just let him do all the thinking and blindly accept his thoughts and decisions on everything, something about feeling emasculated when I didn't.  I suppose I wasn't as easy to manipulate when I had a mind of my own.

So years ago, when I realized he wasn't going to be that type of companion, I first turned to the comments section of the Washington Post.  Then I lost that subscription and eventually turned to Threads but now I'm four weeks into a social media break, not that any of those online platforms truly can replace the human conversation I crave.  I can only imagine what it would be like to be with someone who valued my mind.

So as I sip my coffee and peruse headlines, I kind of wish there was someone sitting at this kitchen table with me to talk about them.  I guess that is kind of ironic since in the later years of my marriage, I reclaimed my morning coffee time as quiet time away from my ex-husband and here I am wishing there was someone to share it with.

Left Behind

When we would cross a busy street, he would dart across in a window of cars smaller than I was comfortable with without looking back to see if I was still with him.  And it didn’t matter how many times I asked him to wait for me and that I wasn’t comfortable darting into traffic like that.  He didn’t care and he wouldn’t even notice I hadn’t crossed with him until I wasn’t there to figure out which way to go next or meet some other need of his.

Each time, I felt left behind, unconsidered, and maybe even a bit unloved.  It reminded me of how unimportant and low of a priority I was to him.  Each time, his actions hurt me and even knowing how he hurt me, he repeated his actions over and over throughout our entire two decades together.

When he abruptly asked for a divorce, it felt like he was darting out into traffic one more time, without empathy or consideration for me and without any communication.  I felt left behind in the life we had built.  I felt unconsidered, unimportant to him, and unloved, not all that unlike all those times we were actually crossing streets together.

Now today, as I get word he is cancelling his internet at his apartment and the local car wash subscription because of his move (things I still don’t understand why he needed to tell me), I feel like I’m still standing on this side of the street while he has successfully crossed.  Except this time, he isn’t looking back wondering why I didn’t follow him because he has found a replacement and no longer depends on the validation, admiration, management of his emotions, etc. I provided for him that was probably the only reason he would look back while we were together.

Now, my mind knows that what is on this side of the street is everything I love and care most about and that when I’m ready to cross the other street to my next chapter, it will be so much better than a life with him over on his side of the street would have been.  But that doesn’t erase the feelings of being left behind and so unconsidered by the one person I trusted and loved most.

Grateful

The sky is a cotton candy colored pink with some deeper reds mixed in now that the sun has disappeared over the horizon.  Over the last 24 hours I have worn a sundress and let the breeze in with temperatures in the 70s.  I have heard the violence of a severe storm throw the rain at my windows.  I have watched the blizzard like snow flurry out the office window.  I have received an unnecessary text from my ex-husband that just reminded me of his insecurities and cruelty.  I have felt the warmth of the community of friends and my sister and my parents.

And I think I am stronger because of it all.  In this moment I feel so incredibly grateful.  

I had started a very different post but this right here is what is important.

A quieter weekend this weekend

I slept through the night last night.  I woke up about 6:15 a.m., later than usual, and even laid in bed for a bit longer before getting up.  It was nice.  And it was a bit surprising as I have been restless lately.  I distracted myself yesterday evening by logging into Hulu to see how many Grey's Anatomy episodes I was behind on.  I think I watched three episodes last night and still have another three or so left to go.

Then this morning after breakfast and a bit of writing, I pulled up my tax forms and documents.  It was close to 10:30 when I finally took a break to shower and throw a load of laundry in.  It was then after noon when I felt the satisfaction of hitting submit on them both.  I don't remember the last time I had that easy of focus for that many hours at a time.

I don't remember the last time I've felt such a sense of accomplishment with something intellectual.  

Then I put my sandals on and walked to the grocery store where I proceeded to buy far too little because I hate cooking and I hate seeing food that I never get the motivation to cook go to waste so I just don't buy it in the first place.  

By the time I got back home, it was close to 2:00 p.m. so I opened the sushi I had picked up at the grocery store and had a late lunch.  Switching out the laundry, I then curled up on my bed with the patio doors wide open and enjoyed a short nap.  Since then I've been sipping a tart cherry martini and reading a lighthearted romance novel.  They have been setting up the stage at the brewery across the street so I imagine I'll get to listen to some music this evening.  The sun and breeze are still flowing into my apartment.  

Life is really quite good, amazing actually, when I lean into these simple moments.  And I feel nothing but positive when I look forward with my social calendar filling up again, at least partially thanks to my initiative, with that manager in Atlanta expressing continued interest in me, and with new adventures on the horizon.  I've got lunch plans with a retired colleague tomorrow, plans for an after hours art museum event with another group of friends the week after, and I really should sign up for that African Rhythms class I keep thinking about that starts in just over a week. 

Memories - navigating reality vs distortions

I made myself abagel sandwich for breakfast this morning.  There was a moment of nostalgia as I sat down to eat it.

It is the most bizarre feeling to think that a day will come when I never see my ex-husband ever again.  He will have fully moved out of this complex and I hopefully will have moved on to a brand new city.  Two people whose lives were fully intertwined down to the smallest daily routines for over two decades may never even cross paths again as they move on to new chapters.

There is a grief in that which is incredibly complicated with distortions, gaslighting, ego, insecurities, a loss of self, and an abrupt, cruel ending.  It's not that I want to go back to any of that again.  I don't think I could even if I wanted to.  Maybe that is what makes all this feel even more bizarre.

So as I ate my bagel sandwich this morning, I reflected on one of our simplest routines, one that used to be so beloved to me - the mornings we took the time to make bagel sandwiches together.  

One of the hardest parts of my healing has been making sense of my memories in the context of reality vs distortion.  Although the events actually did happen (and journal entries helped me feel confident in the way they happened), my perceptions and feelings about the events are being questioned, destroyed, reconstructed, etc. and that process has been painful.

Some memories are easier than others like the trip to the Galapagos.  I disassociated so much that the enjoyment of that travel and nature experience is wholly separate from any part he played in it.  I found a way to separate my grounded reality from his distortions about that event.   This simpler routine of making bagel sandwiches is a lot more complicated.

As I sat down to eat my sandwich this morning, I reflected on how flawlessly we seemed to work together and how loved I felt when he made my eggs.  But then I replayed the scene in my head.  

I saw myself getting out and toasting the bagels and pulling out two plates.  Often I would even pull out the pan and set it on the stove.  Next I would get out the bacon and put the right number of slices on a plate between paper towels and put them in the microwave.  Then I would rinse and cut open the avocado before slicing it and beautifully arranging the slices on the toasted bagel (there was an art to how I did this).  I would salt and pepper my avocado because I knew he wouldn't salt and pepper my egg in the pan like I liked.

While I was doing all that, he would cook the eggs and finish the sandwiches by added them on top of all the work I had done.  Sometimes he would grumble if I reminded him I liked my yolk a bit runnier than he did.

And then after I bit into my sandwich, I would admire how well he had cooked the eggs and often comment about how I can never seem to get them right when I cook them myself.   (Note to self - my eggs this morning were perfectly cooked.)

What felt like a loving routine where we worked together so well, in hindsight looks like a routine that went so flawlessly because of all the moving parts I handled behind the scenes while I tiptoed around his ego.  The love from him I imagined in that scene seems to be missing now that I have more clarity.

Did we used to routinely make egg sandwiches together?  Absolutely, the event was real.  But as my perspectives and feelings shift with a more grounded reality, the nostalgic element to it feels really tainted.