Two months into his divorce, Mike returned home early from work one afternoon to a big surprise: His ex-wife had let herself in and was standing in his living room. “I needed to come by and pick up a few things,” she said casually. “I tried calling you earlier. Didn’t you get my message? I didn’t think you’d mind…”
But he did. In fact, the feelings of being "intruding upon" surprised him. What if he’d been with another woman? What if, what if, what if? But it was more than that… it was about respecting that his was now HIS house, not theirs. Still, he ended up saying nothing. After all, their divorce was proceeding amicably — they were still "friends." He didn’t want to cause an upset, especially so early into their separation…
One of the reasons my husband fell out of love with me is that I couldn’t be June Cleaver to his Ward. No Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval for this gal. More like the Seal of Disapproval if you want to know the truth. If Martha Stewart ever showed up at my home unexpectedly, a highly unlikely scenario, she would throw up her arms in disgust and run screaming from the place.
I just can’t get excited about cleaning my house and keeping everything in it’s place at all times. It’s a full time job and not an inspiring one. It’s not that I don’t dream about a Martha perfect home. I do. But the distance between the vision and the actual doing is daunting. Besides, I have more important things to do than spit and polish, dust and iron.
I’ve always believed it’s healthier to stay single for awhile after divorce verses entering another serious relationship; divorce is a huge life transition and requires time to process.
But while lunching with some girlfriends this past weekend, Hali, my best friend warned: “I think people have to be careful not to get too used to being on their own after divorce. I was only single again for six months, and already I was thinking in terms of MY space, MY things, and doing things MY way.”
My other girlfriend Nikki, 38, and never married, agreed: “I’ve been single so long I know I’m set in my ways. Sometimes I question if I could ever live with a man…”
Afterwards, I started wondering: If we go years without another partner after divorce, are we at risk of becoming too independent — too set in our ways? Does our age have bearing? Does it cause us to be more rigid and habitual?
I’ve grown accustomed to living without a man these past two years. And I like having the closet and dresser to myself. And I like the down-time I have on my own — I think most people do.
I’m lonely tonight and I miss him. Well, not him exactly. It’s more like I miss the thought of him. The good him, the man I married with my heart a-flutter. The man who always made me feel safe, until he didn’t and it all went south with us. But still… I am lonely. And tired.
There is so much to do around this 100 year-old house we bought together. We both thought that restoring it would save our floundering marriage, kind of the same impulse people have when they think that having a baby will bring them back to the loving place, but without the diapers and midnight feedings.
That is what my daughter asked me yesterday on Easter Sunday. This following a horrible EF-3 tornado with sustained winds of 135-165 MPH that ravaged a 15-mile long, half-mile wide stretch of the north, northeast part of our town. We live in Murfreesboro, TN, and this tornado hit Friday, Good Friday, at about 12:30 p.m.
In 2005 we lived through Hurricane Katrina, and though our rental home was gutted, my office was destroyed, and the kids' school was flattened, we came out unscathed, and the home we lived in at the time, though a mile from the beach, and a trailer, no less, was undamaged!
Thursday night lightening hit one of my tallest trees, and the top half of the tree fell in my yard Not on power lines, my car or the house, just in the yard.
Less than two weeks ago, a small tornado clipped the edge of my neighborhood severely damaging the Boys and Girls Club, a bank, and a shopping center.
Three weeks ago there was a huge fire in my neighborhood. A neighbor lost his valuable collectible automobiles and the shed that held them.
In 2001, we experienced three earthquakes in Anchorage, Alaska. And we just missed an avalanche.
I finally got around to moving the last three boxes from my bedroom to the basement this week. Woohoo. Done unpacking in just 4.5 months. Could be my new record.
They were all full of books from Sam's old living room, things he took for his apartment when we split.
I shuffled through them before hauling them downstairs to grab a few more for the hallway shelves.
I don't remember dividing up our stuff when I left. I didn't want stuff, not mine, not his, not any of it. Packing to leave is all one numb blur of a memory.
But those books, a dozen of those books were mine. MINE. And I was furious. Talk about delayed reaction.
Suddenly, pulling them one by one from the boxes here in this house where everything is blended back to "ours" and what once belonged to whom no longer matters, I was so pissed I could barely breath.
Why now? It's a moot point. Still I was pacing crazy, talking out loud to no one about "you can't have this" and "I can't believe you took that." Man, our little brains just don't know when to let go.
As I briefly mentioned in my last post, "Getting Rid of the Husband, Getting Rid of the Bed," Adrian and I moved last week. It wasn't a huge move; in fact, we just moved upstairs in our building, but it was exhausting nonetheless, and as of now I have vowed to never move again.
My landlords live above us. I remember a time in my life where I never would have lived in the same building as the owners. Hell, I remember when I didn't even want them to be in the same state. But upon meeting these two you instantly get a good feeling about them — they're pretty great.
But come to find out, they may be those rare breed of people that are just too great. As a result of living below them — under them — I'm starting to develop a serious inferiority complex. I do my best. I know I do. I work my ass off so that I can pay all of my bills and I spend as much time as possible with my son. In my opinion I'm a pretty great mom.
