One person's sanctuary is another's asylum. 

I returned to upstate New York last Thursday after six weeks of the NYC job search scene — a grueling, merciless, yet necessary torture.

While I did cut commuting costs, the lack of space to breathe and recoup at day's end in the city surely did nothing to prepare me to get up and go it all over again the next day.

So what does that mean for me now? Where do I go from here?

I am halfway through my fourth month of unemployment — with less answers than I had in the first. Having followed every bit of direction and bartering every pearl of wisdom given to me, it seems that I have come full circle, with no alternative but to go the cycle again.

Remember Sisyphus?

At this point, perseverance and insanity have but one thin, heavily smudged line betwixt the pair, and I find myself on most days doing a very peculiar dance: one that involves great endurance. At this point, I've got enough energy to keep up the fight — for now, at least.

I know that I must can't give up — even when the odds are not in my favor.

What keeps me going? I remind myself of how great that victory dance is going to be. 

Apparently, my ex, Levi, caught wind of my lunch date with his sister, Erica. He called last night, said he wanted to have a "civil conversation." (I really must remember to send the man a dictionary with the word "civil" highlighted.)

Then he rambled on and on about how he "isn't going to do anything for Adrian just yet" and how he will "never go through me to have a relationship with Adrian, that he must wait until Adrian is old enough to formulate a relationship with him himself." Same old, same old.

Then he switched gears and told me that he is going to "come take him from me." More of the same. Listening to him now, I can't believe that I ever got myself so upset over his bullshit.

This time I simply told him, "Thank you for the update" and added, "It was nice catching up with you." Done.

Then I met Erica in the city for lunch yesterday. We met at the cafe outside of the zoo, ate, and then wandered around the animal exhibits. She tried to engage Adrian a few times, but he was way more interested in the monkeys and sea lions than in her.

It was only at the end of our day that she brought up Levi, and...their mother. (I still can't decide which one of them I loathe more.) Apparently, the mom wants to see Adrian but she doesn't want to see me. Levi has told his family that he is okay with them "filling in for him" — holding a place for him, until he is ready to be a parent. I told her that it wasn't the right time to talk about it.

But seriously, what can I do but shake my head in disbelief at the utter dysfunction that is their family?

Yesterday was the first day of school. It is my thirteenth, as a teacher. One would think first day would have become commonplace by now, but it still makes me fluttery and nervous and excited. It's still, after all this time, The First Day.

It's also an anniversary, of sorts: The first day of school is what finally made me ask for something to change in our marriage.

Jake used to take me out to dinner the night before the first day. As a teacher, this is one of my Big Days: The First Day, Graduation, Opening Night. Having someone at my side, recognizing their importance, meant something.

Jake had been spending more and more time in China. Eventually, he missed one of my productions. He started missing my birthday. I realized he hadn't been to a graduation in years.

Two years ago, when he told me, despite a month of reassurances to the contrary, that he wouldn't be back before school started, I fell apart. It was just one miss too many. "I need something to change," I said. It was the first time I'd said it in five years. They were five years of being told, "I can't work on this relationship now. Next year will be different. It won't be like this next year."

"You keep saying it will be different soon," I said. "Tell me — is it really ever going to be different?"

"No," he said.

"Then I can't do this anymore," I said. And then he told me he was going to stay in China. That this is what he wanted, more than he wanted me.

This is my second year starting school with no one else to mark the occasion with me. Third, if we count the year we made that decision.

I had a lovely day and made myself a lovely little dinner, but, still, having someone that I can share that with, someone who knows this day's importance to me and recognizes it — I really miss that. 

How do I know if I'm on the right track? Sometimes there's a sneaking suspicion that I may be going off the deep end. As I pack my bags for one last solo getaway, all I can think about is my old life, even though I know how important it is to keep moving forward.

I am totally committed to coming out of all this on the other side.

Probably the best thing I did this month was to commit to another six sessions of therapy. My therapist has been an on-and-off integral part of my life for more than 30 years.

Now, in the post-marriage phase of life, I'm looking for signs, talking to angels, seeing a therapist, journaling, going to Buddhist retreats, and saving time on Sundays for church.

Oh, and I make time for lighting candles, drinking champagne, reading, and celibacy.

All bases covered?

Yikes! Especially since, when I first moved out on my own, I didn't even know where electricity came from. I don't mean which electrical company. I mean where the circuit breakers were, or even what they did.

That's how long I'd been married, pregnant, nursing, and ill.

Ok, get a grip, Joy.

I keep telling my friends, "I am going to be the last 50s housewife."

Not sure exactly what that means, except there's no excuse for disempowerment.

Practicing deep breathing, calming the mind, "ommmm-ing" for peace, I'm treating this weekend as a launching point.

The new school year is going to herald big changes. The kids will get out of bed with no hassles. They may even have my morning caffeine ready. I will find myself, minus the dot on my forehead, and without curry.

Ooops. Wait. This is a reality blog, and my kids don't even know where the stove is.

That's it for now. More thoughts after the retreat and, hopefully, ensuing clarity!

After all of this back and forth nonsense with my ex's family, I've made a lunch date with Erica, Levi's sister. I came to this decision when I was discussing the dilemma with my best friend. She has dealt with a similar situation with her ex-in-laws, so she is my "go to" girl on these issues.

She told me that she had decided to embrace the ex-in-laws and, "treat them the way I would have liked them to treat me," and that it had really worked out well for her.

Heck, all of this arguing isn't working — so I figured, why not give it a try.

Besides, Erica isn't as bad as the rest of them. In fact, she's an absolute dream compared to the rest of them.

I decided that it would be best if we have a quick bite to eat in the park (as Adrian is somewhat of a monster in restaurants), and afterwards go take a walk through the Central Park Zoo.

Adrian, like all kids, loves the zoo. He runs around and says "hi" to everyone and everything. Like, "Hi, monkey!" and "Hi, man." It's absolutely adorable.  With that kind of distraction I don't think that there is any way that Erica and I can get into an argument.

Of course then I have all of these paranoid notions that she will see how perfect, cute, handsome, charming, and just absolutely amazing my son is and try to take him. To that my mom says, "You've got to stop thinking that everybody wants to steal your baby. Nobody in their right mind would steal a child." And she's right.

But we are talking about Levis' family here, remember?

I almost got bombed by bird poo early this afternoon. In some cultures, this is considered to be good luck. I can only hope this proves to be true. It seems nowadays, it's going to take a bit of luck to get things to pan out, as hard work, perseverance, merit, and networking don't seem to be flushing anything out.

Talk about turning a negative into a positive.

As comical and bizarre as it is, I can't help but wonder why it is that people are able to take bird excrement in your hair and turn it into something positive, but things that are less disgusting — like a break up, or job loss et al. are seemingly insurmountable and always perceived as negative.

The answer seems quite simple: Bird poo washes out. I'll take it one step deeper — it's a quick fix and can never be misconstrued as a personal assault like the other things in life.

The things in life that leave us in a vulnerable emotional state are the things we work the hardest to protect ourselves from. Conversely, when something or someone actually penetrates the barricades we've set up, usually because we've allowed them to have access, it's always more difficult to recover. 

And when we do start to rebuild, the fortress is constricted with thicker walls. This is not a healthy way to go about life, I'm sure, but it is the human condition.

So what does that mean for the state of humanity?

I knew from the get-go that Rebound Man was just that; not Mr. Right, but a perfect Mr. Right Now. A gentle reintroduction to the self I lost in marriage. You have to start somewhere.

The first kiss was just a gentle brushing of lips, the slightest embrace. But oh so nice.

“Could I have another one, please,” I asked.

A slow smile. The mutual acquiescence.

“If we keep this up, I won’t be able to walk out of here,” he said.

“What? It was just a kiss.”

“A kiss with intent to seduce. That constitutes sex in the first degree.”

Oh My Lord! Here I’d thought I’d lost my libido — turns out I was just looking for it in the wrong place!

In the beginning, being with Rebound Man was like opening a gift and finding exactly what I had hoped for. I loved regressing back to that state of inarticulate adolescence, nearly swooning from the sheer delight of fresh infatuation. Which is always my favorite part, before the hard work of a relationship.

But the rebound relationship is meant to be light, insubstantial, fun — like cotton candy. It has no nutritional value, and is fine in limited amounts, just enough to leave that sweet taste on your lips. It’s when you overindulge or try to take it seriously that you get into trouble: dip in, dip out, move on, be happy.

Not that I practice what I preach — even new habits can be hard to break. So I hung onto my rebound way past its expiration date, finally accepting that this relationship was just as lacking as my marriage had been. He too, could only offer just one piece of the puzzle, nothing more. Time to find a new game.

But it sure was fun while it lasted.

What do you do when your best isn't good enough?

I have asked everyone in my Rolodex of life whom I suspected might be capable of giving me an insightful answer. They all replied, "You keep going."

No shit, Sherlock — but how?

No one seems to be able to tell me how I'm supposed to go about this. In theory, I understand this rationale completely, but in practice, this proves to be much more difficult.

Of course, the cynic in me also has to wonder whether these people would be able to persevere themselves, should they happen to lose their entire foundation while having to complete a 180-degree life change.

They're all in very comfortable niches in one form or another. Many of them have admitted to never facing a set of circumstances as dire as mine. It's not every day that one's entire life changes virtually overnight.

I never thought that this would happen for me, but I am beginning to lose faith. Unfortunately for me, that's about all I have left.

OK — it's the dreaded last week of summer...and we all hang on to it like a dog to the pant leg of a postman. This might be a good thing since everyone I know has gained weight since it began.

What's up with that?

Bloated single moms everywhere are racing around getting their kids ready for school. Booting up for back to school is "tums"-ultuous when you're a single mom. It's a frenzy of exhausting checklists, kids need everything, and you are a human money pit.

Going away, if you can swing it or a few more rule-free days, is a good thing...staying home and puttering around is also a good thing.

There's nobody to do business with...or make an impression upon.

Nobody cares...well almost nobody.

If people owe you money, you cant get a hold of them.

If you owe people money, they're away and you buy a few days.

The mythical end of summer will confuse you next week because you pull back the curtain and it will still look and feel exactly like summer, only you are not supposed to be having fun anymore.

So — whatever is going on with you this week, make sure you try to maximize any and every last window of opportunity of guilt-free summer pleasure for yourself.

You know you deserve it, and goodness knows next week is going to feel a lot different...even if it looks the same.

My father showed up at my house yesterday. In case you don't remember, this is my father's story.

Along with being my father, he is also a drug addict and master manipulator. Until yesterday he was living down south, in and out of homeless shelters, in and out of psych wards, in and out of various churches and occasionally he slept on the street.

I have tried, and my family has tried, to help him several times; each time, we got screwed over.

Upon seeing him this time, I got such an instant headache that I thought my head was going to explode. I sort of just stood there with my mouth hanging open.

He explained to me that he was there because he wants to get help. He asked me to help him get help.

I called my mother and told her what was going on. (They divorced when I was a baby.) She was very short and obnoxiously said to me, "The only reason that you would do anything to help him is because you want attention. He has other people to help him, let them do it." I told her I had to go.

I was stunned by the way she treated me; by the tone of her voice, and by what she said. I tried to let it go but it kept creeping back into my consciousness as I was taking my father in and out of various doctors' offices.

I realized that I think my mother may feel guilty. I'm sure if I chose a total jerk to be the father of my child (which, actually, I did) — a total jerk that can't get his life together and is a huge burden on me — I'd feel badly about it also.

I wonder if this is a common problem for divorced parents. Does anyone else have any experience with this?