The Three Most Beautiful Words at Christmas-time...

"No assembly required"

I have a wonderful son. He knew his mom needed a new desk chair, so that's what he got me for Christmas.

He was already here, in my apartment, waiting for us when my mother and I arrived after church on Christmas Eve. I was so happy to see him you have no idea. He only lives about 45 minutes-ish away, but I don't see him anywhere near as often as I would like. He's grown into such an interesting person - I really enjoy spending time with him. But I digress.

I turned off the crockpot that had the roast cooking in it and put the cheesy-mashed potatoes I'd made that morning in the microwave to reheat. Then we sat down to exchange gifts. I couldn't help but notice the box (somewhat bigger than the size of a large window fan) on the floor near where he was sitting, covered by the blanket I usually keep on the couch. He said that it was for me, so I got up and pulled the blanket off the box. It was the new desk chair I wanted, albeit unassembled. It's actually a lot more comfortable than the one I had on my amazon wish list. Oops. I digress again.

So after I hugged him & kissed him, thanking him for his thoughtful gift, I said (only half joking), "you're going to put it together for me before you leave, right?"

He grinned his mischievous, little-boy-melts-your-heart-grin and said, "nah, you can do it!"

Getting into the spirit of things I raised my arm a-la Rosie the Riveter and said, "yeah! I can do it! I am woman, hear me roar!" (sometimes even I can't believe the things that come out of my mouth) I figured that it came with instructions, and if I got stuck somewhere I could always call my friend, Debbie, who lives upstairs, to help me get unstuck. No problem. (ha!)

Fast forward five days to yesterday. I finally got around to opening the box to put the chair together. At this point though, my bravado had pretty much vanished, and all I could think about was the lamp I tried to rewire a few months ago with what looked like a fairly simple kit I bought at Walmart that came with easy, detailed instructions (including pictures!) and I still couldn't do it. (Hi. My name is Lauren and I'm chronically instructions-challenged.) I only got about half of it done and Debbie had to come to my rescue, God bless her. (oh, and the half I did, I did wrong)

Still, I figured I had to try, so I opened the box and started pulling parts out. As I laid pieces on the floor I could feel my eyes bugging out of my head. "I'm supposed to put this together? Yeah. Right." Now to someone who knows what they're doing I'm sure putting something like that together isn't a big deal at all. But to me, it could have been the engine of a car spread out on my floor for all the sense it made to me. I know that dealing with a Fibromyalgia flare-up greatly contributed to my feeling so overwhelmed, but I'm still not proud of what I did next.

I texted Frank.

Having talked to him a couple of days ago (we got an offer on our house, which I have mixed emotions about) I had told him what Kevin got me for Christmas, so he already knew I was going to attempt to put it together. And when I expressed my dismay upon opening the box, he offered to stop by and put it together for me. I'm not going to lie and say that I accepted his offer just because I really wanted to be able to use my new chair today. (sure, I did, but we all know that's not the only reason) Yes, seeing him hurts (although I’ve been surprised to discover that it hurts a little less now than it used to), but I still want/feel the need to see him. I know I probably shouldn't have texted him at all, or I should have thanked him and said I'll ask Debbie to help me try to figure it out this weekend, but hey, I'm human. And when I'm exhausted and feeling needy and vulnerable because Fibro is kicking my butt, I have more weak moments than usual. Although I'm finally starting to get into the groove of my new life (and actually enjoy it sometimes), I still miss him terribly. He's been my best friend for almost 20 years, you know?

So anyway, Frank came over after he got out of work and had the chair put together in about 15 minutes. It is SO comfortable! It feels much better than the old, broken one I'd been using. (thank you, Kevin!) I'm very grateful that Frank's not like those guys that suddenly grow huge chips on their shoulders and treat their soon-to-be former wives like crap simply because they don't want to be married to them anymore. He's been very kind and has made it clear that he still wants to be my friend when I'm ready for that, and he's made himself available to me if I ever need him.

Still, as appreciative as I am, I don't like needing to be 'rescued' in this way. I'd like to be able to handle something like this on my own next time. So that means I am in need of 'how to read and follow instructions' lessons. Volunteers? Anyone? Anyone? (Bueller? Bueller?)

Start Spreading the News

I am leaving today

Well I survived my first Christmas without Frank. I had braced myself for a weekend filled with grief and untold agony, and while I did shed some tears on Christmas morning, overall God blessed me with a weekend filled with love and laughter. To that end, if I’ve neglected to mention lately that I have the best family and friends on the planet - please allow me to correct that oversight right now. I have the best family and friends on the planet! (The best, Jerry! The best!)

I want to be a part of it
New York, New York

On Christmas Eve during the day I saw some friends for a bit then spent a few hours with a couple of my aunts and uncles, a few of my cousins, and some extended family members (lots of fun!). Later, I met my mom at church for Christmas Eve service and after that we went back to my place where we had dinner with my son, Kevin, opened some presents, and after Kevin left my mom and I watched our favorite Christmas movie. ("Christmas in Connecticut" - the Barbara Stanwyck version) I went to bed with a smile on my face. After the 11:00 a.m. service ended on Christmas day, I called my friend Eileen from the car. I had a gift for her and her husband, Steve, and I wanted to drop it off but they had a house full of Eileen’s family from New York for the weekend, as well as Steve’s mom, so I wanted to be sure everyone was up before I rang the doorbell. She told me everyone was up, so I headed on over.

These vagabond shoes
They are longing to stray

First, I want to be very clear about this: I honestly did not intend to stay. (I left my purse in the car for pete’s sake!) I wasn’t even going to go inside the house, but Eileen held the door open and told me to just come in and say hi to everyone. Well, ok. I guess I can come in and say hi. I said hello to both moms and Eileen’s brother, Jimmy, and sister-in-law, Cleo, in the living room, and we found Eileen’s brother, Michael, in the kitchen with Steve, where he was getting dinner ready to go in the oven.

Right through the very heart of it
New York, New York

Steve and Eileen opened their gift and tried to entice me into staying with a slice of one of Michael’s pies. (they invited me to stay a couple of times after I came in, but I politely declined because I was feeling emotional and just wanted to go home to be alone and cry)  However I quickly caved on the pie and ate a small piece standing in the kitchen with my coat on. I still did not intend to stay. Now as to what happened next, I’m a little fuzzy on some of the details. I’m thinking that when the chocolate pecan pie hit my system (yes, c-h-o-c-o-l-a-t-e p-e-c-a-n p-i-e!!!), I enjoyed it so much that it created an endorphin rush which slammed headlong into the sugar high, which in turn caused a chain chemical reaction that made it impossible for me to say ‘no’ when they asked me again to stay. I do remember making Steve promise that if I took my coat off, he’d let me help in the kitchen. When I took my coat off Eileen whisked it away, so I rolled my sleeves up and asked him what I could do, and Steve said, “Um, well nothing really.”

I want to wake up in that city
That doesn’t sleep

Mmm hmm. In other words, Michael’s pies are dangerous. They should all have warning labels on them. “Caution – eating this pie may result in temporarily taking leave of your senses”. Oh, and watch out for Steve. He's tricky. Very, very tricky. To redeem him a bit though, I was eventually able to help a little. Several hours later (they held me hostage for over 10 hours!) I had the opportunity to help clean up after the big, formal, sit-down dinner that evening. That made me feel marginally better. That and playing "Pictionary Man". What a riot! (Eileen, Jimmy, Cleo and Alisha were all pretty good at it, but I think Matt and Lance emerged as the Pictionary Man kings of the day)

And find I’m king of the hill
Top of the heap

You know, I discovered something very interesting this Christmas. I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, “you learn something new every day.” Right? Well I learned TWO new things. I think it’s pretty safe to say that it’s common knowledge that New Yorkers in general are supremely arrogant when it comes to two things in particular.Their bagels and their pizza. Having been close friends with Steve & Eileen for almost two decades, I have to say I always thought their insistence that they haven’t found any really GOOD bagels or pizza here in Massachusetts in the entire time they’ve been living here (over 15 years!) to be rather silly. I truly thought it was all in their heads.

My little town blues
They are melting away

So when I was offered an authentic, made-in-a-New-York-bakery bagel, I jumped at the chance to try one. Well… let me tell you something. IT’S NOT IN THEIR HEADS. Oh. My. God. They have officially ruined all other bagels for me. (Thanks a lot, guys!) On the plus side though, I will now be able to go to my grave finally knowing exactly what a bagel is supposed to taste like. (So, thanks, guys!)

I’m gonna make a brand new start of it
In old New York

I didn’t actually try the pizza until the next day, however. Eileen sent a piece home with me and I had it for lunch. I warmed it through in the toaster oven – not the microwave. (I remember asking if I could reheat it in the microwave and four of them said very quickly, at the same time, “No! Use the oven!”) New Yorkers are so funny.

If I can make it there
I’ll make it anywhere

I'm sure you've already guessed that my reaction to the slice of authentic New York Sicilian pizza was the same as my reaction to the bagel. I’m mad at them now. I've always loved pizza and they’ve ruined it for me! Not that I’ll never eat it again or anything, but it just won’t be the same. When I spoke to Eileen the day after Christmas to report on how I liked (loved! drooled over!) the pizza, her next words struck terror into my heart. “Do you like falafel? Because we can ruin falafel for you too.” Good God!

It’s up to you
New York, New York

A clarification to something in my last post (otherwise entitled, "Know When to Walk Away, Know When to Run")

I wanted to clarify something I wrote in my last post. This is prompted by a couple of concerned comments/questions in a couple of e-mails I received tonight.

When I wrote: "Now I’m not letting him off the hook here," etc. I wasn't saying that I'm not letting go of Frank. I HAVE let him go. That is why this is all so excruciatingly painful. If I were delusional, harboring hope that we will somehow get back together, I wouldn't be in nearly as much pain. (Um, is it too late to go that route?)

I love Frank very much and a part of me always will. But for my own sanity, for my own peace of mind, I've had to let him go and look to my future. When I said that I'm not letting him off the hook I was talking about his being responsible for the divorce. I am guilty of many things: among them being pigheaded (Who? ME? No way!), having the wrong attitude sometimes, and not having been the helpmate I should have been - but he is the one who made the choice to end our marriage. That's what I meant - I wasn't saying that I'm not letting go of him. So please don't worry about me, ok? I'm not delusional. In fact I think I'm seeing things more clearly now than I ever have.

Ok. That's it for the 'heavy' stuff for tonight. I'll try to lighten things up a bit for next time. :)

 

You've Got to Know When to Hold 'em, Know When to fold 'em...

“Some people think that it’s holding on that makes one strong; sometimes it’s letting go.” Unknown

Frank told me he wanted a divorce one year ago today. Looking back to last year, I really and truly did not think I would survive this. I thought my life was over. The love of my life just flat out didn’t/ doesn’t want me anymore. I’m not… enough. I can’t think of too many things more damaging to one’s self-esteem than that.

But you know something? Since I cut off communication with him a couple of months ago (I had to – we get along great but it was just too painful), I’ve discovered something about myself. I LIKE ME. Don’t get me wrong, I know I have my faults just like everyone else, but that’s the point I was missing for so long. I have faults just like everyone else -- not worse than everyone else. I may have had a problem with my temper once-upon-a-time, but God healed me of that several years ago. The sad thing about that is for the last several years I allowed myself to be so consumed by guilt I completely lost who I was. God had forgiven me, Frank said he forgave me, but I couldn’t forgive me. Most of the time I put my own wants, needs, and desires aside in favor of Frank’s. He never asked that of me or acted like he expected it, I just felt I owed it to him to make his life as easy as I could after causing so much turmoil in our home for so long. So I had myself paying some kind of weird penance to make up for all the years I was a raving lunatic, and as a result I grew more and more depressed (although, hindsight being 20/20, I know neglecting my relationship with God played a major part in the growing depression as well).

“Learn from the mistakes of others. You can't live long enough to make them all yourself.” Unknown

So although it wasn’t intentional, I was being dishonest – Frank didn’t really know who I was.  Heck, I didn’t even know who I was. Now I’m not letting him off the hook here, when God said, “a husband must not divorce his wife” (1 Co. 7: 11) He didn’t say anything about a special dispensation for husbands who feel like they made a mistake and aren’t in love with their wives. On the contrary, God says that His grace is sufficient for us and that His power is made perfect in our weakness (2 Co. 12:9).

Anyway, I’m finally finding me – for the first time really. Seeing myself through God’s eyes instead of through my own guilt has made a huge difference in how I feel about yours truly. He loves me. Let me say that again. The Sovereign, Omnipotent Creator of the universe, El Shaddai, King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the Great I Am, Abba Father, Most High God – loves me. ME. I am worth dying for.  I am worth dying for.

"It is difficult to make a man miserable while he feels worthy of himself and claims kindred to the great God who made him."  Abraham Lincoln

So… a year after D-day and I’m surviving. Who’da thunk it? (not me!) My family (especially my mom & my sister, Gretchen), my friends (with a special nod to Debbie, Sonya, Eileen, and Mike), all of my co-workers, as well as Nick Soutter and Dan Pearce, all of you keep me laughing. Many thanks & much love to all!

 “Through humor, you can soften some of the worst blows that life delivers. And once you find laughter, no matter how painful your situation might be, you can survive it.”  Bill Cosby

Blah, blah, blah... writing.

"There's nothing to writing.  All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein."   -- Walter Wellesley

Writing has been very difficult – next to impossible really – for the past several months. What used to be a joy, something that came naturally and that I needed to do (akin to breathing), has become tedious – something I force myself to do lest I forget how much I’ve always loved doing it. I sit and look at a blank page or screen, once filled with such promise, and now get absolutely nothing. While every writer experiences writer’s block at some point in their lives, this degree of ‘blockage’ has never happened to me before – and for such an extended length of time. Writing has always been an outlet for me. Whether I’m angry, sad, happy, or somewhere in between all three – I write. I’ve been doing this since I was about 9 years old, so not being able to do it is more frustrating and heartbreaking than I can begin tell you.  This forced separation from my husband has me feeling like I’ve had a limb ripped off, and my inability to write my way through it makes me feel as though I’ve lost another one.

Exasperated, I finally said something about this problem to my writer’s workshop teacher, and he told me to write for 10 minutes a day. Could be anything, he said. A letter to my soon-to-be-former husband (which I never have to send), a letter to God, a description of how much I hate it when my writing teacher emails me and gets on my butt about writing.… anything. Just be present. So after weighing my options I decided to pick up this blog again. And what better way to start than by writing about my inability to write?

The funny thing is (and I’m so amazed that I can find something funny in anything these days but, miracle of miracles, my sense of humor seems to have remained fairly intact) I really have a lot to say. So many thoughts pass through my head clearly enough, but when I put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) and try to retrieve them, it’s like reaching blindly into the bottom of a deep, dark hole in a giant, old tree. You never know what you’ll come out with (if you come out with anything at all).

The can’t-write-to-save-my-life affliction aside, I’ve neglected this blog for the last several months because when I created it I really wanted to be able to capture the lighter side of this new journey I’m on. But although God has been blessing my socks off every time I turn around, the sad fact of the matter is that no matter how friendly things may be between me and my soon-to-be former husband, reality has set in hard and there really hasn’t been very much lighter side to write about.

Yet.

There’s a saying that it’s always darkest before the dawn. If so, my sunrise must be very close. (I hope! I hope!) Ah, another miracle - I still have hope. Hope for my future. But I’ll get to that at a later date.

In the interest of ending this on a more positive note, I have to say that in spite of the fact that this is the most excruciating thing I’ve ever endured (and much to my surprise, I am enduring!) there are definite bright spots.

So I’m going to start a list of these bright spots (which I will add to as the Spirit moves me) and when I’m stuck for something to write about I’ll just pick one and write about it.

My Bright Spots (after numbers 1 and 2, the rest are in no particular order):

1)      I now have a closer, stronger relationship with God than I ever thought possible.

2)      I have been blessed with peace which surpasses all understanding in the midst of more soul shredding anguish than one person should ever have to experience.

3)      I get occasional brief glimpses of the (albeit dim at the moment) light at the end of the tunnel, so I know it is there – somewhere.

4)      Kevin & Jill, Mom, Gretchen, Justen & Susan, Kim & Daddy, and the rest of my family.

5)      Debbie, Eileen & Steve, Mike & Sue, Denise, Fran, and Margaret & Glenn – the family of my heart.

6)      Judy, Bruce, Susan, Danielle, Lynne, and the rest of my Divorce Care group.

7)      My job at the College and all of the wonderful people I work with.

8)      Sandi & Tim and the rest of the Gunderclan, Brian & Sandi, Feather, Kare Bear, Andy (girls, we need to come up with a good nickname for Andy!), Tootsie-pop, Nathan & Trish, Diana & InQ, Casey, Lisa S, Draco & Perseus, Meg, Kathy, Colleen, Denise L, Lisa C, Sonya, Sharon, Noreen,  Diane and Kat & Jazz, Sue Drew, and Manny (Taco! Taco!) - among others. 

9)      Pastor Tom Curtis and everyone that goes to Holden Chapel – my church family means everything to me.

10)   Barbara, my therapist.

11)   Nick Soutter, my teacher at the writers workshop I attend.

12)   The Worcester Animal Rescue League and all of the awesome people I’ve met there, but especially the pooches that fill a dog-sized hole in my life.

13)   My apartment – while small and not without its challenges, it’s also safe, cozy, and starting to feel like home.

14)   The members of Frank’s family who have left the door open to a relationship with me when I feel like I’m (emotionally) ready.

This is by no means a complete list, so I will add to it from time to time as things come to mind.

 “I love talking about nothing. It is the only thing I know anything about.”  -- Oscar Wilde

All of this to say “I’m back!” and plan to update on a regular basis. I’m not going to lock myself into a box as far as the kind of entries I’ll post however. I’m just going to be honest about where I’m at. I may be feeling silly, serious, lifted so high I have to look down to see Heaven, or lower than the underbelly of a rattlesnake… I’m just going to be real. If you’re open to that, you’re welcome to follow me on my journey to healing.

Blessings to you!