Posted to House Bloggers
by Debbie Nigro on Thu, 12/10/2009 - 8:19pm
Now that we all know what we shouldn't — that there's been a Tiger in just about every tankini — Elin Woods and her kids are off to Sweden. So what now?
Lots of anger and depression and humiliation all around… enough to make a mother-in-law collapse. She did.
Though you wouldn't know it by his golf acumen, Tiger Woods is huMAN. So let me comment on the huMAN angle.
Ask any man who has lost his family to a fling and he'll probably tell you he deeply regrets it. He had few regrets at the time it was happening — when he thought he had figured out the best of both worlds.
For all the negative commentary on marriage being an “institution” that's been likened to prison, most men don't like going life alone.
Women are much better at it.
Married men like having their families to return home to after being MEN all day. They love their children and home cooked meals and their couches and their cozy wives. They need it. It's just that some of these men can't eliminate the excitement of sex with strange women.
So some don't. Others wouldn't dare risk it.
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Posted to House Bloggers
by Rachel Gladstone on Mon, 01/14/2013 - 8:48am
It’s easy to get lost in a marriage, even when you know it’s not working anymore, because you just get in the habit of being married. I think Paul Simon had it right when he sang, “You’re just a habit, like saccharine” and when I heard this lyric the other day it really got me thinking. At the end, when I broke all ties and dropped my husband like the bad habit he was, I thought that would be that. But it seems old habits really do die hard and as I stop and think it over, I’ve come to realize that I’m habitually hanging on to several of them and I don’t like it one bit.
I’m still in the habit of feeling blue on gray days which I never did before I met him. And I’m still in the habit of planning an early exit strategy from parties which was his M.O. no matter the occasion. The difference now is that I am usually among the last to leave rather than the first, but it still bothers me that even the ghost of this tendency has somehow stuck to me.
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Posted to House Bloggers
by First Wives World on Sun, 01/13/2013 - 3:38pm
I didn't get married until I was 38. It was my first and so far only marriage, and I kind of felt that I should have known what I was doing by then. You know, career first, marriage and kids, second. Stinky was 35, and it was his first marriage as well.
For two grown-ups we certainly managed to make a big old mess of things — so much for maturity with age.
Of course, in Northeast Louisiana, I found that most women who were my age had teenagers and some were already grandmothers. So, when I also became pregnant for the first time at 38, I was definitely considered an odd bird.
However, the advantages to marrying "late," so to speak, are many. If you've been alone, you've learned how to handle a car jack and can change a tire in under 30 minutes. If you've been alone for the first 15 years of your professional career, you've learned how to rent moving trucks, how to pack like a pro, and how to drive a 26-foot U-Haul van pulling your car behind it.
You have repaired a leaky faucet, unclogged a bathtub drain, and replaced various and sundry household fixtures and appliance parts. You've had to be self-sufficient.
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Posted to House Bloggers
by Rachel Gladstone on Mon, 01/07/2013 - 8:19am
My divorce decree was signed, sealed and delivered several years ago. But despite what the paperwork said, understanding what it really meant to be divorced took much longer than I had thought it would.
At first, I didn’t know what to feel. I was pissed-off, hurt, resentful, scared and elated all at once, and this heady mix of emotions had a way of popping in and out at will like the seven Faces of Eve or Sybil’s many personalities on a really bad hair day. It was crazy making, to say the least but having no experience in being a divorcee or a woman suffering from severe personality disorder, I went with the maelstrom that ruled those first weeks and months post-divorce. Honestly, it was all I could do to hold on to my sanity for dear life and hope that time would take care of the rest.
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Posted to House Bloggers
by Rachel Gladstone on Mon, 12/31/2012 - 7:38am
We’re a breath away from a New Year; one hour and 57 minutes of breathing to be exact. But who’s counting? As I take stock of the year that’s taking its final bow, I have to say that I have come a long way in the healing post-divorce process. At times I still got caught up in the recriminations and resentments that are part and parcel of that process, and although they’ve lingered longer than I would have liked, I’m ready to see them exit the building. It’s been a bit like watching a sunset as you drive East through two time zones: you know it will set eventually but it just seems to go on and on and on. And when you finally get to the place where the sun dips behind the horizon, you know a cycle has been completed and you can breathe a sigh of relief.
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Posted to House Bloggers
by Michelle Rosenthal on Thu, 12/27/2012 - 10:48am
As I begin this new life now that my divorce is finalized, there are a number of resolutions that I truly hope to keep. Aside from the typical, "I will lose 10 pounds," my resolutions have more to do with my emotional well-being:
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Posted to House Bloggers
by Rachel Gladstone on Mon, 12/24/2012 - 9:10am
I almost ran in to my soon-to-be-ex today. Sounds like a bad country song, I know, but it’s the truth.
As I rushed in to the Kroger for a much-needed item, I was stopped dead in my tracks when I saw him muttering to himself at the top of aisle 9. Thankfully, he failed to see me as I sped past, grabbed the item in question and scurried back towards the self check-out lanes. Praying he would be absorbed in a world of comparison-shopping, I politely cut in front of a fellow shopper and was done in 20.3 seconds flat; which is probably a record of some kind, and I barely made contact with the receipt, ripping it out of the terminal as I flew by.
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Posted to House Bloggers
by First Wives World on Thu, 12/20/2012 - 3:35am
Take a look at this picture. Some people would see a woman in cheery red celebrating with a sparkler. Me? I see a divorcee looking at a lit stick of dynamite. I mean, really, how else would one celebrate the holidays when you have to deal with your Ex, your Ex's Next, your Ex's family, your own family, your family that you never talk to, and your kids who think you are losing your mind?
Bruised Egos
In my little world, I get to deal with Pam [name changed to protect the guilty]. This woman is a little piece of heaven. I mean she's blonde, had her nose, eyes, and boobs done as well as a tummy tuck [cause they were doing the chest anyway] and has declared me her enemy. She also told me in blunt terms that she thought I had no honor. Because I was forced to report her son for theft.
This little ray of love sent me an email over the Veteran's day holiday thanking me for my military service. I'll let you decide on the amount of irony that little email put in my perverse little heart.
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Posted to House Bloggers
by Rachel Gladstone on Mon, 12/17/2012 - 11:28am
There’s something comforting about drinking and dialing when you live alone. When on a night out with the girls, a few glasses of wine and great conversation give-way to facing an empty house; the void that lies on the other side of the front door naturally begs for a human voice to fill it. Honestly I find it tough to listen to the sound of my own voice night after night, whether I’m muttering to myself or talking to the dogs, and it begins to take its toll (especially when I wish my dogs had the capacity to answer me).
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Posted to House Bloggers
by Rachel Gladstone on Mon, 12/10/2012 - 11:30am
My recovery post-divorce has taken longer than I ever thought it would and I’ve found I can measure this lilting pace against the number of houseplants I’ve been able to keep alive. For many, this seemingly ordinary thing would be of no consequence, but for me, it has marked a change in my life.
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