The Secret to Getting Through the Tough Stuff

The Secret to Getting Through the Tough Stuff

I was not in New York City that horrible fateful day in September 2001. I was married, then, however. We lived in Alaska at that time, and I remember watching as our country’s borders were crossed so easily and as those planes kamikazed into our Twin Towers. Things began to change the most, then, I think.

Living in Anchorage, Alaska, at the time, I was slightly removed from the lower 48 states, but it still hurt. It still frightened. It still broke my heart. It was, at that time, I think, that American families began to stop what they were doing and take an assessment of the lives they were living. We began to see the value of nesting. Our homes were viewed as our sanctuaries far away from danger, or so we had thought. I am quite sure that the residents near and around Ground Zero did not feel safe for a long, long time.

Since September 11th, we have watched our world crumble and fall in many ways. WorldCom comes to mind for me. My ex bought 20,000 shares of that stock right before it plummeted and failed. Wow, what a waste of our hard earned money, but my ex always was much more about the future, tomorrow, what would happen years from now.

Me? I was wondering how I was going to hit my monthly projection at the Fox affiliate I worked at and get all the laundry and dishes done at the same time. We women live more in the moment because life forces us to. I would tell you that it pisses me off, and I am quite sure that it did at one time. But no more.

My ex never saw the value of living in the moment. He believed in rush, rush, rush. We lived in one of the most beautiful and amazing places I have yet to see, and all he could think of was what sort of real estate deal he might find that would help him make his fortune.

I remember a day, specifically, when I packed a lunch and we took the kids and the dog to the Mighty Matanuska River. It was so bright and sunny and even warm that day. We drove and parked right up to the river (you can do that in Alaska). I got out and I spread the blanket. We let the dog and the kids run.  They loved it.

We sat, drank some wine and ate our sandwiches. I remember how he couldn’t relax, not for a moment. He stood after he’d finished his food and said we needed to “wrap things up" and get on the road to go look at some real estate property he’d discovered. It sounded like a killer deal, he’d said.

I looked out at the river and watched my children laughing and running and trying to skip rocks. I looked at the mountain and the sky, and I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. That’s what I wanted to do. I wanted to stay the entire day until my children were so exhausted that they would come and reluctantly lie down on our blanket, and fight it, but eventually lose the battle and sleep.

That’s what I wanted. But that is not what I did. I stood and packed our things and told the kids to get in car.

I don’t do that anymore. I have adventures alone and with my kids. I take the road less traveled, and I park by a river and sit as long as I want. I do not take anything for granted.

We move at lightening speed it seems, but we have to find a way to stop, breathe deeply, and exhale slowly. We have to find our inner sanctuary. Don’t get me wrong – I can only imagine what you’re thinking: Yeah, right, let’s all find a mantra and chant our little lips off.

But it’s true.  I’ve discovered a mental sanctuary. No matter what happens now, getting stuck in traffic, tearing the hem in a skirt, spilling milk….no matter what happens, I pause and try to simply go there. That place in my mind and soul where I can feel grateful to have a car that runs, that I have clothes to wear and that I can afford milk (okay, barely). I go to the Mighty Matanuska and remember the turquoise colored water, the smell of pure air, the sun bouncing off my tow-headed children. That’s where I go in my mind.

After three and a half years of complete separation and divorce from my ex, I have my river, my sanctuary, and my peace. Is this Nirvana? I doubt it, but it sure feels close.