Oh, the joys and pains of being a woman. Sunday morning, I found myself in my temporary New York City digs in need of personal maintenance. You know, those womanly chores we love to hate — or maybe just hate — with a passion.

Being that the prior week was so hectic, I hadnít had time to pay attention to myself, and by the weekend, I was a mess.

I needed a shampoo and a shave like nobody's business. The shampoo was going to be easy, I figured. So I decided to begin with my least favorite chore — shaving, though I decided to use one of those hair-removal-in-a-tube deals.

Ordinarily, I don't subscribe to chemical hair removal, because it's so messy, and because there's just something strange about the process.

But my heightened need for hair removal — summer equals skin exposure — and the fact I get so impatient when I shave, made me take the plunge.

I wish I had checked the water situation in the apartment before smearing the hair remover on.

Thank goodness it was merely a lack of hot water, and not a full-on drought. If that had been the case, I would be going through the remainder of these horrid New York summers hiding vanity-induced chemical burns under long pants.

It's all in the name of beauty, I suppose.

Why in earth do we as women care so much? What's it all for?

Is it really for ourselves?

Summer has many associations. We look forward to sunlight, warm weather, BBQ’s and children being home…but not to someone else’s children being home, say your husband’s children with his former wife.

Instead of the children stopping by for a night or two once a week, these children arrive for two weeks, maybe a month.

All of a sudden the bleak, quiet days of winter seem compelling.

Dealing with your own children requires being thoughtful, calm, and present. Dealing with your stepchildren requires the same but with even more patience and reflection, so you can respond with integrity.

And then there are the frictions between your own children and their step-siblings in various outings and occasions.

I’d say it’s time for a cocktail and a few deep breaths — and possibly a series of mini-vacations, with one set of children at a time.

Even extremely evolved couples can fall prey to the blame game. Who made the mess in the kitchen? Left the front door open so the dog ran out? Broke my favorite bowl? Who?

It’s so easy to suspect your partner’s children from the previous marriage. Not only are your children perfect, but if you blame his children, that’s one less altercation with your own.

On the other hand, as a step-mother, you want to make sure that the step-siblings are having a good time.

The result this summer is that I am making everyone’s favorite dishes, driving them thither and yon, and attending to their needs at all times.

Trying to please children (who are always self-involved creatures) evokes Sisyphus pushing a boulder up a hill.

No sooner do you feel the glory of a job well done than there is another demand.

And chances are you are never thanked for anything you do.

Sometimes you just can’t win.

Sometimes I still dream about Levi. But not in the way you think. When we first separated I couldn't even sleep, let alone dream. Then, when I finally started dreaming again, I'd dream us back together; together as one big happy family.

I'd wake up from those dreams feeling more depressed than when I went to sleep; dying to go back to sleep and savor that fantasy for just a moment longer.

I'm so glad I don't do that anymore.

Now I have angry dreams.

Now I have dreams in which I am screaming at him.

Now I have dreams in which I am leaving him behind.

Now I have dreams in which I am kicking him out of my house.

I had one of these dreams last night. In my dream, Levi was in my house (don't ask me why) with his whole family.

They were sitting there as I reamed each and every one of them. I was screaming and crying, asking them how they could do this to my son? I remember that I was screaming at Levis' sister, "How dare you!!"

I awoke from this dream slightly startled. Why am I still dreaming about this?

In truth, I don't really feel as angry as I used to. I've worked hard at letting that anger go.

This prompted me to do some research on dreams and I've discovered that people work out their issues through dreaming.

One study, conducted by the Association for the Study of Dreams, looked at 49 people going through divorce. The study showed that people who incorporated their ex into their dreams at the time of the break up were significantly less depressed and better adjusted to their new lives at the follow up point than those who did not.

Another remedy for divorce: Get plenty of rest.

Last Christmas, I hid for a few moments of solitude in my husband’s boyhood bedroom, as my in-laws flitted about below, making dinner, greeting guests. Though I had been contemplating a split from my husband, Rob, for months, I was along for the holiday as a favor to him, a good-faith effort that I was committed to getting through our rough patch.

Frustrated with the decision I had made, and feeling trapped in family festivities I didn’t want to be part of, I sat down on the faded rug in his room, leaned back against a small painted desk, and cried.

Voices wafted up from below and I heard my father-in-law say “Now that’s a family with problems.”

He was talking about my family.

My parents had recently divorced and within a few months my mother had remarried and moved far away. I felt his judgment not only on them but on me, as unbeknownst to him, I was thinking of leaving my husband just as my mother had.

I cried harder.

From worrying about what they think of us, to wishing them out of our lives, to not wanting to say good-bye to them, in-laws can loom large in our thoughts as we contemplate separation or divorce.

It stands to reason, since many of us work so hard to fit into our in-laws’ family (or at least make the relationship work on a practical level), that extricating ourselves is not easy.

In Part II – Inlaws and the Decision to Go

It seems the tide may be turning, but I want to be careful not to rock the boat — or do I? I have recently been given the keys to a friend's apartment in New York City.

My friend Wendy is taking advantage of the summer to visit with her family in North Carolina, before the next semester starts in the fall. This couldn't have happened at a better time for me, as I needed to be closer to the city than my upstate digs would allow.

During the past week, I actually was called in for several interviews. Ordinarily, interviews are not on my list of favorite things to do. But being that things are so tight with the economy, I am happy to be at the point where I am getting callbacks.

But now I am faced with a dilemma.

After one four-hour marathon interview, I was offered a job.

After a half-marathon, two hour interview, I was not offered a job, but am optimistic about my chances.

What I don't like is the wait — two to three weeks while they interview the remaining candidates.

Do I take the job offered to me, or do I wait to see if I am "the right fit" for the other organization's program.

Do I go for the job that is something I really want to do? Or do I go for the job that would offer me a definite paycheck?

Decisions, decisions...

In a conservative town in Nebraska, Sara learned many lessons from her relationship and her divorce. "Trust your gut,” she says. “When you become a mom you have to do what’s best for your kid.”

Some people think you should put your husband first, she says, “but if you’re in a family situation that will negatively impact your kid, you have to take care of them. You’re responsible and at some point your motherly instincts kick in and you have to what needs to be done.”

You also, of course, have to take care of yourself. If she had stayed with the marriage, she says, “I would be the mother to two people instead of just one. He would be very happy. I would work outside the home” — in the Air Force — “take care of the domestic duties and bills, and he would be free to do what he wanted to. I could have dealt with the situation, but I wouldn’t be happy."

On the other hand, being on your own, she says, can be tough. “Dating sucks with a child,” she says.

And then there is the regret: “You always worry that you could have done something to make it work... could I have done this or that, tried harder... any number of things. You’re going to second guess yourself. So know that that will happen, and it will be hard and trying, especially if you work, because you don’t get a break.”

Eventually, she says, it pays off.

The secret to making it through a divorce in the Midwest is to find a good support system. In her case, that was not her home church, which shunned her, even though she was a children's ministry leader there.

She felt the church thought she was a bad example to the kids. "I was asked to take a break from any church ministry. It was like, 'You are divorced so now you should rethink things.' "

She found a new church with a more liberal mindset and credits the congregation with helping her through the rough time.

Sometimes, it’s a good thing when the other shoe drops. It became clear early in my seven-year marriage to Edgar that he is an alcoholic. I might have noticed before the vows were said, had I not been so happy to have found the ultimate drinking buddy.

But after I stopped counting the number of times he went to detox and to rehab, after I stopped hiding his car keys and calling the cops when he found them, after I finally realized he wasn’t the only alcoholic in the house and sobered up, I noticed that I was not happily married.

I should have been. Ed is bright and funny and professionally accomplished.

He was far more likely to cook and clean than I was, and as far as I knew was faithful -- except for those lost weekends, and weeks, with the bottle.

But I did realized that I couldn't trust my husband, who had sworn that he never lied to me about anything important.

In addition, we had uncomfortably different ideas about money, and about the state of our marriage.

But Ed had put the plug in the jug, as recovering alcoholics say. So I tried to be satisfied.

I told him that if he went back to drinking he’d have to find someplace else to live.

Professionals had told him that if he resumed drinking he wouldn’t live very long.

I was glad he was accumulating sober time, though bizarrely, I knew that, if he started drinking again, my decision about the marriage would be much easier to make.

On the other hand, I couldn't wish active alcoholism on anybody, especially not the only guy I ever married.

Then I was gone for a week to visit my elderly parents.

Ed and I talked every day, and I looked forward to getting home. He knew when and where my flight was arriving, but wasn’t there to meet me.

And he didn’t answer his cell phone the first couple of times I called. When he did pick up the phone, he had trouble explaining what was going on.

I previously wrote that I would not have the savvy nor the energy to pull off dating two men at once. After posting it, I wondered if I was in fact sure of this. And if this was the definitive answer, why wasn’t it possible for me? Furthermore, shouldn’t we all consider doing it?

Unfortunately, this is sounding dangerously close to that horrible book that outlined the rules that women needed to follow in order to find their perfect mate. 

While I think that book is absolute garbage, there is something to be said for exploring one’s options before making a final decision.

When it comes down to it, I think about all the decisions I’ve made in haste over the years, some of which have been more detrimental than others.

I look back at these and remember how difficult it was and how long it took to reverse the damage done in a fraction of a second. 

Whether it was extra portions that lead to extra trips to the gym, or saying “I do” as opposed to “I think we need to work out some of these issues before we proceed,” the result was always me having to shift gears and try my damndest to get out of the quicksand before being completely enveloped.

I may not yet have the wherewithal, but whenever I should find myself back in the game, I’d going to make sure I am able to pull off a double-header.

They say the definition of insanity is to repeat the same thing over and over again, expecting different results. Sometimes I wonder if dating is a form of insanity.

Think about it: We date, over and over again – perhaps falling into some form of love (I'm still working on defining the word) – and ultimately, at least thus far, it all falls apart, leaving us feeling empty, broken, despondent, depressed and longing for more.
 
We repeat this process over and over, each time expecting a different result.
 
Each time, we hope that this time it will be different. This time it will work out. This time I've found my prince charming.

My relationship with the new guy is going well, so well in fact that I find myself frightened. So well that I think I may purposely screw it up, just so that I can remain in control.
 
That's the scariest part of a relationship, I think: the feeling that you are out of control. If you fall in love with someone, you give them the power to hurt you.
 
I don't want to be hurt again.

I can't allow myself to be hurt again.

I know this.

I know how far I've come since Levi, and I marvel at it sometimes. I am good now. I am at peace now. I am content now.
 
What I don’t need right now is this giddy, makes-me-want-to-throw-up, happy, butterflies-in-my-stomach feeling.

This waking up next to someone, and reveling in it.
 
These dinners and conversations.
 
This falling in love.

I know he's it, my next big thing. Big heartache or big disappointment or big ... something.
 
It's like I'm on a roller coaster headed for a brick wall, I know I should jump off, but I'm having so much fun that I’ve decided to wait until the absolute last moment.
 
I do not need this right now, but, at the same time, I cannot stop it.