“There’s my mommy’s wedding shoes.”
Jenny and her classmates have been earning pretend money since the beginning of the school year. They are rewarded with coins for their good behavior. Now that Christmas is upon us, they will have the opportunity to use the money they’ve earned. The teacher is setting up a little shop with donated items from parents. The kids will shop from these gently used and not-so-expensive new items. They can fill their little Christmas lists from the items in their Classroom Store.
I was helping the teacher set up the store. One of Jenny’s classmates was still hanging out at the end of the day. Trevor was pretty excited about the stuff he was seeing in the little store. He was wondering who might like the deck of cards, and who might like the mug filled with herbal tea bags. And then he looked at me and said, “There’s my mom’s wedding shoes!” He was so pleased and proud to point out the glittery silver shoes. He could hardly wait to see who would be interested in the shoes his mommy wore on the day she married his daddy.
Trevor’s parents are divorced now. I’ve seen them both at the school — separately, of course. They are one of the sets of parents that has asked the teacher to please schedule conferences individually. They despise each other and refuse to be in the same room, at the same time. I can’t imagine how they deal with the Christmas Program, since I’m pretty sure the school won’t be scheduling a separate showing for each disgruntled parent. Although, there are plenty of disgruntled, divorced parents. Perhaps a separate viewing for moms one day, and dads a different day is a good idea.
I haven’t been able to quit thinking about those silver slingbacks. They so sweetly represent all the hope and promise that Trevor’s mom and dad must have felt on the day they got married. They seem to embody the wish that all little girls have, to one day marry that prince charming and live happily ever after. And they also symbolize the little boys’ wishes to marry the beautiful little princess in the fancy shoes. Now, those shoes were laying amongst the unused potholders, trial sized shampoo bottles, and Dollar Store wrapping paper.
I still marvel at how the brain/spirit/soul works in all this. I include all three because I’m not sure which is responsible for the total disdain and dismissal that one feels for the ex-spouse. I still can’t figure out how it’s possible to so love someone that you think you can’t live without them, and then, at some point, you can’t stand to suffer through a 10 minute teacher conference in that wasband’s presence. Perhaps it’s only possible to get to that point because that person was never really loved to begin with? Who could handle the responsibility of knowing that another can’t live without you? It’s such a lovely, romantic notion, isn’t it — to have someone say they can’t live without you? Yet there are days when it’s all I can do to get dinner on the table, practice the spelling words and balance my checkbook. Then Rita, our chubby feline, rubs up against me, wanting something from me, and it sends me over the edge. I can’t be everything for everyone, let alone anyone. And no one should be expected to do that for me.
Maybe that’s the key? Maybe it’s not about what he can do for me? Or what I can do for him? Maybe it’s about completely appreciating him for who he is, beyond the sparkles and glitter. Maybe it’s about rescuing myself, and then gladly sharing what I have. It’s not about expecting him to rescue me, and then expecting him to give me all that he has. It’s about being whole first, and then coming together to be even better.
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Trevor also pointed out this funky wine rack that his mom had donated to the little store. It still looked brand new. I’m sure it must have been a wedding present. Maybe it didn’t fit their decor. Maybe they argued over who would keep the wine rack. Maybe they couldn’t agree, so it was donated to the little store.
Perhaps his mom should have worn the slingbacks more often.
Perhaps his dad should have complimented her when he saw her wearing the slingbacks.
Perhaps they should have made time to share a little wine together.
Tags: child of narcissist, divorce, humor, life, love, narcissism, NPD, survive
Yay! Another excellent post. It’s my belief that when people get married, its usually two inner children that come together to try and fill these ‘holes’ we have inside of us from childhood. I can’t tell you how many women have told me that they knew as they were walking down the aisle that this marriage was a big mistake!
Also, for me: when I find myself being critical to my VERY loving boyfriend, I realize I need to STEP BACK. Whatever my reaction is has nothing to do with him, and everything to do with me. ITS MY REACTION. Ive noticed that when Im in a self-loving space, he does everything just fine. :)
Thanks, Donna, for this timely comment. How did you know that I needed to re-read this post? You are so right.
I love this post. It’s beautifully written.
I wore clear, kitten heels that I’d borrowed from a friend of my mom’s on my wedding day. I called them my “Cinderella slippers” and I loved them because you could see the blue nail polish I’d used on my toes the night before.
I think I found this post on Twitter today, but this entry was posted two days after my thirteenth wedding anniversary, four months after I’d ended our relationship. Two months after I’d moved out. I’m still going through the divorce.
I don’t really know what to say about it all. I’ve said the word “amicable” so many times, it’s lost its meaning for me. But, I’m making my way through it. And it’s so nice to be doing that, and stumble across lovely places like this. Thanks for this post.
Diane,
I’m glad you found us. Wish it were under different circumstances, but I sense this is a good thing (your pending divorce).
I remember when acquaintances would say, “Oh. I heard. I’m so sorry.”
I’d say, “Really… it’s a good thing. Really.”
So I’m going to wish you all the best instead of telling you how sorry I am.