The rainy grey skies gave her permission to sink into the couch.
Leaks were collecting in metal bowls that ran the length of the soggy carpet. She had lined the bowls with paper towels to mute the ping ping as the drips accelerated.
The ping pings soon turned to sploosh splooshes.
The kids would be gone for four hours.
The basket next to the fire was stocked with wood. The fire peaked at her through the glass, giving her its permission. Continue reading →
She could remember when seeing his name in her Inbox made her heart race with excitement. Now seeing his name in her Inbox made her palms sweat. She let the cursor hover over his name. She didn’t want to click to open his email.
She’d have to decide what to write back.
Did she even want to write back?
Being nice was her thing. She’d been supportive. She’d been there. She’d listened and responded.
Was there anything positive coming out of this relationship? If this was positive, why did it feel bad?
Were there healthier places to invest this energy?
Was she opening and answering emails because she was afraid there wouldn’t be another to come along.
She closed her laptop and stared out the window at the park.
__________
Her daughter came up and said, “Mom… are you interruptible? Can I ask you something?”
She looked into her daughter’s blue eyes and found the answer she’d been looking for:
She opened her laptop and deleted his email before opening it.
We may walk hand in hand for a time, or we may know each other only briefly.
We’ll share many of the same turns and detours.
We’ll marvel at the beauty found in the connection we share.
I may pull your rolling red Samsonite for a stretch, and you might offer to carry my fraying black backpack.
I will empathize and address your concerns with compassion. I will hand you tissues when you cry and pour the wine while you laugh so hard you can’t hold your glass.
I will listen while you detail the reasons for your choices. We’ll both smile and nod when we realize we’ve made similar mistakes.
We’ll learn lessons from each other that we wouldn’t be able to learn from another.
I’ll be the first to pat you on the back. Though I instinctively brush off your kind words, I’ll try to remember to be gracious.
Neither of us may know where we are going, but I will not follow you.
That’s not my journey.
There are the frazzled days when, for no apparent reason, you feel out of sorts.
Maybe you blame it on the full moon.
Perhaps you need to eat more protein and less carbs – or less protein and more carbs – I can never remember. You may be dehydrated, or you slept poorly.
You sit quietly, coffee in hand, sifting through the thoughts mulling around in your head, trying to filter out the cause of the frazzle-ness. You find several potentials – emails that need answers, an over-baked tray of cookies, the need to run out to get milk, or a dwindling supply of firewood. None of them amount to enough to cause the Frazzle.
The exercise of sorting through and examining the thoughts helps you see that what you are craving, though, is control.
This moment – right here, right now – demands a bit of control.
Not the heavy-handed I’ll tell you what we are having for dinner and you will eat it kind of control, but the kind of control that attempts to gently pull in fractured energies and encourage focus.
In an uncharacteristically desperate attempt at gaining control I make the bed – the same one that will go for days without being made.
The making of the bed starts a snowball effect. (If I made the bed every day, I wouldn’t have an obvious place to start the snowball effect. Isn’t rationalization handy?) The snowball builds as I clean the cat box, take out the trash, sweep the front stoop, straighten the cushions on the couch and refold the blanket on the rocking chair.
The completion of each chore, starting with making the bed, allows me to pull in all those scattered energies, get some semblance of control and focus on what’s really important – figuring out what to make for dinner.
They said, “How bad can it be? He doesn’t beat you. He doesn’t gamble. He isn’t gone every weekend. You have a nice home. How bad can it be?”
They said, “You know, it’s not easy being a single mom. There will be lonely nights. It’s a lot to handle by yourself. Are you sure this is what you want?”
She said, “I don’t want to hear your reasons for leaving him. I think he’s wonderful.”
He said, “I thought you were the perfect couple. You looked like you were happy. Wasn’t he making enough money for you?”
And when I started this blog, they said, “You shouldn’t dwell on all this negative stuff. It just isn’t healthy for you or the kids. Leave all this toxic stuff behind you.”
…
After I’d been writing for over two years, and the kids and I had clearly grown and worked through a laundry list of issues, they said, “Well, where are you going to go with this now? You’ve survived. You’re thriving, even. You’ve clearly come out the other side and you’ve made great progress. Why are you still writing about surviving narcissism?”
__________
This morning I received an email. She said, “I saw the comment that came from another corner of the world. I see how many there are. I see how they all wonder if they might be crazy. I see how this impacts children. I see how this might help. I get it now.”
I knew she would.
He said, “Mom, why do you think I’m outta sorts today?”
I said, “Maybe you’re wishing we had snow. Maybe this is the pre-dad visit funk. Maybe you need to eat something. Or, maybe it’s just one of those days.”
And because the hot water of the shower has a way of warming my skull and opening my brain to the current of ideas that passes in and around this house, I came out of the bathroom with an inspired thought.
There is an undercurrent of truth seekers in the river of life.
They are everywhere.
Some carry backpacks full of self-help books. Some can be seen taking a Myers-Briggs Test at the corner table in Starbucks. Some fill yoga classes. Some do Tai Chi on a sunny afternoon at the park, and they don’t care who might be watching.
Some might meditate.
Some might write in a dog-eared journal. Continue reading →
I am a work in progress and so is this blog.
First, some chronology to set the stage:
5 1/2 years ago – Stuff three boxes, buckle two young kids into car seats, leave husband, nice house, financially secure future, perpetual stomach aches and nicest yard* I’ll ever tend.
5 years, 5 months ago – Discover NPD and naively present the concept to narcissistic husband and helplessly watch as message falls on deaf ears.
5 years, 3 months ago – Buy tiny, cozy, safe home for the three of us. Put holes in walls, roll in grass that is never fertilized, refuse to make beds, leave projects out in plain sight, smile and laugh every day.
4 years, 4 months ago – Youngest starts public school. Take a temporary, part-time job with family. Rush between commitments like every other family in the U.S. Stomach aches start to make a reappearance.
4 years ago – Divorce is finalized. Kids seem to be coping well with divorce, not so well with public school. Continue reading →
I stop at the top of the hill and yell for them to keep going. I want to watch them.
I plant my poles, snug my hat down a bit and wrap my arms around myself to block the chill.
The temperature hovers at 10 degrees. It’s beautiful windless cold – the crisp blue of a winter sky when the light makes edges sharp.
I take a mitten off to wipe my nose.
I quick jam my hand back in the mitten and tuck thumbs into the finger sides to soak up the warmth generated by many. Thumbs have it tough. They can’t generate enough heat all by their lonesome. They need company to have any shot at getting warm. Continue reading →
The other day we stopped at a convenience store to pick up corn nuts and Cheetos for a road trip. We placed our stuff on the counter and the clerk said, “So have you heard about the theory that if a train started out today and …. speed of light…. circling the globe….. rate of speed….. it would arrive in the year 2032?”
Don’t quote me on that because, honestly, I didn’t understand a word he said, but he sparked an entertaining conversation that lasted the first 30 miles of our road trip.
We have a new friend that fixes us chicken pot pie and brownies and chats with us – even kids* – about things like past lives, quantum physics, philosophy and art.
For several days after one of those dinners, Will can be heard saying, “Is that really a chair, or do you just think it’s a chair?” Jenny will say, “Is it really that windy out, or do I just think it’s that windy out?” Continue reading →
With their pinkies pointing at my face, they backed me up against the kitchen counter saying, “Pinky swear you aren’t the one bringing us presents on Christmas morning! Pinky swear to it!”
What could I do?
I could have continued the charade. I’ve come up with some pretty clever lines over the years – lines that have let my kids keep believing, but how much longer should I keep lying?
And because the Universe always brings me what I need, when I need it most, I’d read this post earlier in the day, and was a bit prepared.
Over a dinner of grilled ham and cheese and homemade apple pie, I answered questions – lots of questions. Continue reading →
It would be the closest I’d get to being a real Santa Elf. I was thirteen and my brother eleven. Through the family grapevine, we were selected to help the Cookie Lady.
When were arrived, she was wearing a purple flowered frilly apron that belied her drill sergeant attitude. She greeted us with a tight smile, and handed us plain white restaurant-style aprons.
She wasn’t the wrap-her-arm-around-you, mushy grandma who pinches your cheeks kind of woman. She was all business. This was her big event of the year, and she had a system.
I remember feeling intimidated by her fancy house, her proper language, her tall, upright posture and her reputation. It was a privilege to be invited to help, but scary as hell.
After a minimal amount of “How are yous” and formalities, she delivered the instructions. Continue reading →
It’s cold outside.
I won’t know anyone there.
I can’t go dressed like this.
Everyone will be younger.
Everyone will be older. Continue reading →
They could have banished me to the old white shed.
I wouldn’t have blamed them.
In desperation, I came up with a plan to try and establish balance in our home.
I wanted to go back to bed.
I wanted to eat everything in sight. Continue reading →
