I HATE HIM
I HATE HIM
I HATE HIM
I HATE HIM
I HATE HIM.

The Long Game Begins

Over the past 2 years and more of our separation, I have given him so many opportunities to do the right thing. To make amends and move forward in friendship.

He rejected all of them. Sad for him. I cannot regret it though. It is who I am.

That doesn't mean I haven't learned to protect myself and move on. This divorce is clearly going to be a long term project.  I am just going to live my life with joy and forget about it. What will be will be. I have to let go and trust the Universe that is always there for me to act in my best interest. That and my lawyer :). It is not going to keep me up nights any more.

Sad but true.

Divorce

The Dance

I can't sleep. Today, March 1st, 2016, is my 30th wedding anniversary. Does the clock keep ticking on that even though we are separated? 2 years, 2 months, and 17 days. That's how long we have been separated. I have been actively trying to divorce him now for 8 months. He has not been cooperative, and accuses me of trying to hold him hostage for the rest of his life via alimony payments. It sucks when consequences catch up to you. This is why some men just kill their wives and avoid the unpleasantness altogether. 

Small blessings.

I have many times wished I had ended the marriage after our second child was born. That would leave me with both my precious girls and hopefully a lot less pain for all of us. Hind sight, as they say. But what else would I, We, have missed?

There is a song that popped into my head unexpectedly a few days ago as I awoke, and has stuck around to torture me ever since. Even my old standby cure of singing Ice, Ice Baby (by Vanilla Ice) hasn't worked to erase it from my mind.

Last week, it was my parents' 50th anniversary. 

I won't ever have one of those. 

I made it through a week of going through 50+ years of old photographs and memories to put together a collage and share moments at the family dinner I organized for them. 

 It was the first time I had braved the photo chest since the separation. My lifetime of photos had sat forbodingly in the brown wooden chest that protects them, daring me to expose my raw feelings and sort through our life. I had unashamedly refused to dive in. But now I had no choice. You can't have a 50th wedding anniversary celebration without a visual trip down memory lane.

Along the way, among all of the photos that I found of happier times and my husband before he turned to the dark side, were of course my own wedding photos,  

and our first dance.

You might think it is THAT song, (You're my) Inspiration, by Chicago, 

from our first dance that won't leave me. 

But that isn't it. 

For a while this past week, the song that wouldn't leave me was Garth Brook's The Dance. It had me reflecting on all of the moments that I am grateful to have had and wouldn't change for the world. Especially our daughters and happy family times together. Difficult to get past that in one piece, but I did. I even enjoyed revisiting those times, and reminded my girls about them as well. Lest they think it was always terrible. I have photographic evidence that we were all one big fucking happy family at one time. 

But I digress.

The song, which I had completely forgotten about, was one that was popular at the time we got engaged on March 1st, 1985. It was playing on the radio as we sat in his car in an underground parking lot getting ready to leave from...I don’t remember. Perhaps he picked me up after work or we had gone to a movie. 

Anyway, this song came on the radio, by Anne Murray, a beloved Canadian singer. (I still have the cassette tape of her childrens' songs that my mom and dad gave to me as a kid.)  

She was singing Could I Have This Dance.

A song about spending the rest of your life with someone. So it was playing on the radio, and I started singing along, directing it at my then boyfriend. It turned into a proposal of sorts, and he, and I, said yes. A few weeks later, he surprised me at work with an engagement ring, and officially proposed to me at work. 

The rest was history.

So now out of the blue, this song won't leave me. 

And, thank heavens, neither will the moments and memories that I remain grateful for. 

Yes, I could have missed the pain, but I would have had to have missed all the moments along the way that I would have died for.

I wouldn't have missed this dance for the world.

My Dad and I

Thanks for the Memories (with apologies to Mr. Bob Hope)

Well, it's done.  I have packed up the family home and the For Sale sign is affixed firmly in the front lawn. I am torn about this.  Part of me is happy to have achieved this step, while most of me is screaming inside. Really loud heaving sobs of heartbreak.

For some, maybe most, moving out of a house is probably not a big deal.  For me, having been raised by chronically transient parents, having been homeless as a child and then marrying into the military, this home was everything to me. It represented settling and security for the first time in my life. We move into it in July of 2004, when my husband "retired" from the military for the first time.  We were supposed to live as a normal, civilian family and enjoy our kids, grow old together and live out our sunset years there. That was the plan.

Any military family knows that the plan never survives first contact.  I should have known that. I naively thought we could handle anything. Surely after a military career including 5 overseas tours (eventually 6), civilian life would be easy.  Not so fast. It seems the one thing military people cannot handle, is civilians. Without a gun and a battle plan, anyway.

This day has been coming, well technically it had been coming for 11 years now, but the timeline I have actively been a part of has been since July.  At that point I decided to sell the house instead of holding on to it, and its memories. Having come to that decision, I found us a home and my girls and I moved out in mid-September.  I have been gradually moving out ever since.  I know I dragged my feet. Holding on to what I knew was pointless, but I was so reluctant to say good-bye forever.  It may have been just a house, but to me it was my dream. My future. An embodiment of such promise that would never be.

Every Fall and Christmas season, it is hard to fight back. To fight against the sadness and depression that come with the despair that accompanies the memories of those times. It is a time and process that I have yet to conquer.  So this holiday season, I found a new tool: Gratitude.

When I am overcome by sadness brought on by memories of better times, even of bitter times, I have been changing my perspective, and shifting my frequency, to that of gratitude. Gratitude for having had that experience. Even if the rest was not to be, I have had all of those blessed experiences.  And I am so grateful for them all.  Really and truly.  I often think of the Garth Brooks song, The Dance.  I could have missed the pain, but I would have had to miss the love, the blessings and the lessons along the way.  It is better to have loved and lost, etc, etc, etc...  This is not an easy shift to make, it is actually physically difficult.  I believe it to be the route to healing my heart, though.  And allowing my soul to grow from this.  I have opened my heart to gratitude, and I am grateful for the knowledge to be able to do so.

Bob Hope was a comedian and performer famous for ending his routines with a song...Thanks for the Memories.  I borrowed the title for this blog post from that idea.  One day I'll tell you how I ended up going to see a Bob Hope show with a paedophile. But that is a story for another time.

Happy New Year!  May 2016 bring you hope, love, faith, prosperity and joy. And may you remember to be grateful for it all.

Remember Who You Are!

It is the 29th Anniversary of the 1st day of my marriage. I'm doing much better today than last year on this date. There has been sadness, yes. I've been able to watch it come and go, though. Choosing the light instead of darkness.

I can't ignore the significance of the day, but I can assign it a different job. I choose to make it a restart day. My sister-in-law was very sweet and treated me to a massage at an amazing spa.  It left me relaxed and rejuvenated. A lovely way to while away the afternoon! I am forever grateful for her thoughtfullness.

I have seeds and soil ready to start the seedlings for my garden, my new passion. It is part of my renewal, rebirth.

I need to get back to who I am. The fearless and courageous me that ploghed on full of love and determination no matter what. There were pit stops for pain along the way, but I never lingered long.

I jave lingered here too long, in this place of grief and disbelief. I need to move forward.  Baby steps forward. What shall I do first?

My Own Company

Tonight is not unlike any Saturday nights over the past 30 years. Spent with my own company because Mike was away. Away with his military career, or once he became a civilian, away for work with his civilian job. I had looked forward to spending these nights with him when things settled down. With our children grown we would have lots of time to spend together. With his dream job on track he would have the time to be home. So I waited. For 30 freaking years, I waited. Fortunately I like my own company . And so I am comfortable spending the evening with myself. It is not however what I envisioned for the later years of my life. So tonight with both our grown daughters out living their own lives as they should, I I'm spending the evening in my own company. Having seen my ex earlier today for a band performance that our daughter was in, I was making polite small talk and asked him what he was doing tonight. Going out to a bar with his best friend. That's fine, great! I know how much it means to Mike to have friends to socialize with. He never felt like he had friends. Never fit in. The gracious part of me is happy for him. There is a small part of me that is a little resentful. And so he knew that I would be spending the evening alone as per our conversation. So he texts me just now, and asks me if I would like his company.

 Now it's a little late for him to start caring about my feelings. Though I do appreciate it. It's just... A little late. It is handy for the separated relationship that we now have for it to be amicable and conducted in a civil and even friendly way. However I was quite insulted, I guess, and indignant that tonight would have been, could have been, only one of many nights when I may have enjoyed his company. If he had not been otherwise occupied  spending time with more important things in his life like his career his job and his mistress.

No, it's much too late for us to enjoy each others company. Even just as friends. At least not now. Maybe in the future. But tonight, tonight it just pissed me off. Like really? Now you're going to decide that maybe I would like to share your company? Well hallelujah amen! Anyway. I'm taking a deep breath and I'm going to go finish my evening of Dr. Phil and the movie of the week. Better alone than in the wrong company. Who knew that my own company was better all along?