I got an email today from Lily’s teacher, explaining that Lily had been crying in school today over some homework she’d done.  She said it wasn’t perfect and it made her upset.  That is fairly unusual for Lily (the crying, not the perfectionism - that she comes by honestly from her mother).  A little digging from the teacher and Lily said something about Arden keeping her up at night and hurting her feelings. 

While that may be true, or at least partially, I think Lily has an easier time explaining her sadness by attributing it to outside sources (like missing her best friend, her house, or the art teacher at her old school) than explaining what is the real source of her sadness.  This of course makes it sound like I understand the source, and while I think I do, I could be wrong.

It disturbed me to get an email about Lily, because usually she is the quiet laid-back one, always pleasing everyone.  I find it ironic that as I hit the wall with my people-pleasing ways over the last few weeks, Lily also has had enough.  She is sensitive and caring and worries about others.  Normally I find this to be endearing and sweet, but right now it has me worried.  Am I raising a codependent?  That’s all very dramatic, but I do worry about the future.  I’ve spent a lot of time worrying more about others than I do about myself, and making their happiness my sole purpose in life.  While it’s very martyr-like, it’s not particularly healthy.

My neighbor has Arden for the next hour so I can do homework with Lily and hopefully talk with her privately about everything.  I’m in a weird place too, so let’s hope I can put my mom hat on and rock out the understanding, kind and awesome mommy role. 

The final divorce decree came in the mail.  I knew it was coming; my lawyer had needed my address so when I saw his firm name on the envelope I was fairly certain what was going to be inside it.  I did okay with it but as I said on Facebook, seeing 12 years of your life and 2 kids summed up in four legal sounding pages is frankly bizarre. 

Susan spent the last few days in Richmond.  She sent ME a thank you note after, which is also bizarre (but totally like her).  We have an incredibly strong friendship.  I don’t know how it was that we formed the kind of bond we have, but it’s one of those that lasts until we’re both decrepit and old and smell really bad.  Having her here helped.  She’s very honest with me, but gentle about it.  She knows how to talk to me without getting my hackles up, but she can also directly tell me when she thinks I’m making bad decisions, being too hard on myself, or being generally nutty. 

It was interesting hearing her describe her version of my life back to me.  She said it sounded exhausting.  She thinks I do way too much and am spread too thinly.  Because it’s normal for me, I don’t think much of it.  It’s just how I am.  If I sit around too much I turn into a sloth and grow long toenails to help me hang from tree branches while I stuff my face with grapes and dew drops.  In all seriousness, I’m either going 100mph or I’m drooling on myself, face down on a floor somewhere.  Like everything else in my life, the gray area is hard to find. 

I’ve tried to cut back on things, and I’ve tried - really hard - to cut the bad or toxic things out of my life too.  Some days are better than others.  I’m just glad she was able to neglect her own family to help me take care of mine.  It meant a lot, and got me over the worst hump in recent memory.  As much as she’s a friend, she’s also a great teacher - she shows without telling, and corrects without demeaning. 

Really, all one needs is eclairs and friends.

Truth 1:

I am coming out of the worst depressive episode of my life.  It lasted from approximately December 17th through yesterday morning.  I don’t do math, but that equals a lot of days and nights.  “Bad” days prior to this lasted as described - a day or two.  I shored myself up, waited it out.  This time, the rules were completely different.  Starting the day I received the notice that my divorce had been finalized, it went downhill from there.  I think I had expected the divorce to make me feel free.  Instead, I simply felt unmoored - like I was floating over a huge expanse of ocean with nothing and no one to hold me.  There was a huge financial pressure squeezing me, the behavioral changes in my kids, this house I live in, a year of crappy and unreliable relationships, drowning in some sort of codependent nightmare relationship with a close friend, losing the image of what my life was supposed to look like while frantically trying to rebuild a new and better picture of the future that will be.  Health issues, a year spent running - literally and figuratively, aging parents, the usual and standard self-loathing of my physical body refusing to conform fast enough for my ever-persistent need to be different, better, improved.  A year and half worth of therapy that has made me strong but so self-aware that I can get away with nothing anymore, and when bad habits shed their disguises, they are no fun. 

I am terrible at seeing myself from the outside.  To me, yes, the previous year had been difficult.  It wasn’t until Jennifer made me add up all of the pieces, especially over the past couple of months that I realized how much I’d really been through.

I refuse to get into the details of the last couple of weeks.  It’s ugly and it’s humiliating and it’s just frankly disappointing that I fall back into old patterns and old vices when the shit hits the fan.  I’m all about outing myself and my silliness if I can think it will help someone else, but this won’t.  Nothing good will come of discussing the true low I hit and I’m not going to put myself through it. 

The worst of the depression revolved around my self-doubt.  It includes thinking that I cannot make good decisions, or that I will be able to have healthy relationships down the road, or that I will ever be able to throw the yoke of despair off me forever.  It’s quite possible that I won’t, but Jennifer’s diagram of what has happened to me over the past few months made it easier to see that all of this “stuff” combined with the holidays was a perfect storm and perfect storms don’t happen very often. 

Someone asked me if I thought I would have been better off staying with Mike because I was never this depressed before.  The answer is yes and no.  Yes, I might have been less outwardly depressed, but it was only because I was stuffing all those feelings down and covering them up with parties at my house, internal pressure, granite countertops and expensive shoes.  My pace today is still frenetic, but compared to the way I burned up hours in my past life, I am moving at a snail’s pace.  Slowing down, taking deep breaths and sifting through the reasons I ended up here has made me both strong and extremely vulnerable.  I’m where I am because this is exactly where I need to be.  There’s no shortcut, especially since I wasted years of my life (and my ex-husband’s) by trying to take shortcuts every chance I could. 

so . . .

John and Karen - thanks for opening your house to me, distracting me, feeding me too much chocolate and chicken and vodka.  John, all those runs have been life-saving. 

My running buddies who are now friends:  Sarah and Meg, all that giggling and hard work made me confident I could handle anything - even half marathon training in 100% humidity.

Sean, thanks for all the sushi and conversation, and being able to put some personal stuff aside to just be a friend to me.  The 2010 Porsche Driving Tour was definitely a highlight and brings me some peace whenever I feel most peaceless. 

Susan, as always, you came through in a million amazing ways.  Having you here with me and knowing you see right through me is priceless.  Being able to listen to you without fearing what you’re saying because I know you are right is a rare thing.  I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve you but it must have been something akin to saving Christ from the crucifixion. 

Theresa, your tea and your house have been lifelines for me in so many ways, along with the way you’ve made me a part of your lovely and quirky extended family. 

Philip, I know things are hard for both of us right now.  You are confused, I am angry and so very sad, but we will get to a better place someday down the road.  I will always owe you a huge thank you for doing what needed to be done.  I know I helped you through a big part of your year; you helped me through a big part of mine.  I think we should both pat ourselves on the back for being mature and aware enough to realize the limitations we both have right now.  Just as you watched me make bad decisions earlier and suffered, I owe you the same courtesy. 

Stanley, the email you sent me a few days ago brought me to my knees.  I feel the same way about you.  I may be older, wiser, and much better looking (only one of those is true), but you truly inspire me.  You are an amazing friend and one of the kindest people I’ve ever known.  You are one of those irreplaceable gifts that came after going through hell.  You’re like the blingy medal at the end of the race.  You make it all worth it. 

Tricia, you are still my hero - even though you don’t get why you are.  Talking to you feels like home and I miss you tons. 

My family, especially my sister and my parents.  I know I put you through the wringer.  I wish things had been easier for all of us, but that’s not life and I’m okay with that.  I can’t imagine my life without you in it.  My sister gets me in a way very few people do.  I’m so glad I have one. 

Lily and Arden, you have no idea what you’ve done for me just by being my children.  I gave you life, but you have kept me alive as well.  At the lowest points, I remember that the basic fact - and most important - is that I am your mother and nothing else matters but you two.  I know my decisions have made your lives harder but I’m certain we are all growing stronger by the minute and we will survive this together, laughing and dancing to Lady Gaga.  I know you’ve sensed the wrongness that has surrounded me for a while.  Thank you for all the extra hugs and kisses, for nurturing me when I’ve most needed it, for being the amazing people you are.  You are the most amazing gifts and I will never, ever leave you. 

Truth 2: 

I absolutely will make it out of this.  I’ve got one hand on the edge of the crater and I can see some light peeking over the top of it.  Just a little bit farther to go.  It’s blind faith at this point, but so many people are rooting for me that I just keep digging my feet into the wall and pushing myself up a bit further.  If this many people think I can do this, they can’t all be wrong.  Right now I’m okay substituting their confidence for mine.  Mine is hiding somewhere in the sand, refusing to come out.  I’m hollering.  It will eventually obey and return to me. 

I’m not going to sugar coat it.  Christmas afternoon was eerily similar to a September day over a year ago. Thankfully my day ended differently than my September experience.  Instead of hitting rock bottom, I hit a very long run followed by a very quiet evening with a very close friend and a good movie.  Stanley, as usual, I owe you.  It was especially helpful to hear how he’s gotten through quite a few holidays alone and that now it’s almost easy for him. 

Even though Kevin is perpetually perky (and it’s so very annoying), I knew he was struggling too.  He had to have been because for him to run 10 minute miles on purpose means something.  I used every ounce of strength I had to get to the run.  After the effort it took to get out of bed, cry my way to the stadium, and pull it together before Kevin showed up and laughed at my puffy face, the run seemed easy in comparison.  The run course was unfortunate as we ran by The Camel, the VMFA, and some downtown landmarks I had just visited with Philip.  I was missing all my close friends on that run, but especially him.  At this point, anyone who makes the days easier to swallow is a good friend of mine. 

My sister sent me an amazing Christmas present.  It’s a necklace from Waxing Poetic and one of the charms on it is this one:

My friend Christina sent me a necklace too - with a stone that was all about recovery and inner strength.  I need to wear both of them at the same time.  Between the two I feel like the entire last year is synopsized into silver and stone.  Running, strength, friends, family.  I’m clinging onto all of them.

I’ve been struggling with New Year’s weekend for quite a while.  I finally figured out what I’m going to do and it feels right.  I might even do the Resolution Run for “real” instead of for fun - meaning, I’m going to run a hard 4 miles.  The 5K Saturday can be my fun run, especially since it’s going to be followed with mimosas and brunch.  My weekend is not at all what I thought it was going to be, but I’m adapting and still working hard to let go.  I’ve learned a lot from Jennifer and now when I’m faced with a situation that feels terrible, I can see the lesson in it.  In this case, it’s that I have no control over others, or where they are in their life, or what is important to them.  At the end of the day, we are all very much alone and you have to stand on your own two feet or spend your days face down in the mud.  No one is able to hold my hand 100% of the time, no matter how much they want to.  I’m FINALLY okay with it.  I know that I can curl up and shriek and cry and hurl things around because I also know it’s going to pass and tomorrow something amazing will happen. 

Someone asked me today how I was surviving.  She looked so sympathetic, like someone had just run over my cat.  I was taken aback.  My life is supposed to be pretty good now.  I got what I “wanted”, so therefore all should be well.  I took a deep breath and said, “I’m not surviving.  I’m doing great - and survival sounds like drudgery to me, so I choose to not think about it as survival.”  (I actually got to use drudgery in a sentence - go English majors!!!)  I was probably lying, but I resent pity and I don’t like feeling my weakness is painted over my face like Ke$ha’s bad glitter. 

I knew my blog posts were going to be depressing (reading drudgery!) this week, and I’m okay with it.  I want to be able to look back next year and say, “Good God woman.  Did you not see through the fog that life is exactly as it should be, and everything’s gonna be ok?  You are so short-sighted sometimes . . . ”  I’ll be chuckling at my depression and fatalistic views while watching Lily paint a masterpiece and Arden rock out on her piano while penning her first novella with her toes.  The warm arms around me will belong to my Wall Street slash Writer slash Recovering Emo slash Social Media Junkie and the chai will be perfect, I’ll be six inches taller and rocking a beautiful pair of Blahniks I paid cash for.  Ho ho ho, I’ll say to the me of right now.  And you were even worried that things would work out!  Aha hahahaha.

Seriously though, I’m okay with hanging on by my fingernails.  Each time I make it through one of the valleys, I’m amazed I’ve done it when I stop being so scared I was in that place to begin with. 

When I trained for the half, I was rigid about utilizing all the advice I received and following the training schedule to the exact letter.  I didn’t miss training runs, no matter what.  On the rare occasions my personal or business life got in the way, I rearranged my schedule to work the run in so I wouldn’t fall behind. 

I feel like I’ve been training for divorce in much the same way.  In some ways, it’s paying off like my half training did - but I also feel like I did at mile 11.5, which is where I wanted to lie down in the ditch and wave a white flag. 

Divorce training has included mental exercises to steel myself for the holidays.  It includes mind calisthenics to keep me focused on the things around me:  the beautiful eyes of my very different daughters, pretty trees, the way the road feels under my feet, the hug of a good friend, a note from my dad, Thora’s snoring body pressed up against me at night.  I have a list of people on call who can deal with my moods; I also have a list of people I can call who will distract me with their antics.  I use every trick I’ve been taught and pride myself - sort of - on knowing when I need to just feel and when I need to run like hell.  It’s served me well.  Last night during a phone conversation with a friend, I cut through about 6 layers of BS to reveal the true issue.  We are good enough friends that although my thoughts on the matter probably didn’t thrill him, he knew I was looking out for him.  I’m great at figuring out other people’s issues.  Occasionally I can figure my own out as well.  In this case, I know that white knuckling is probably the only thing getting me through this.

In the midst of feeling like I’m a tasmanian devil of epic proportions (when I visualize myself, I see a tornado where my body should be and a million bits of shattered glass coming off the gray clouds), there are these other incredible moments that are just as powerful.  Today I snuck in a run while my kids played at Theresa’s (she occupied them with sugar cookie dough and will be cleaning sprinkles off her floor for the next 6 years).  The sun was out but it was windy and cold.  The first mile was spent convincing myself I’d warm up.  Once I found my rhythm, I was able to look around.  I love running in Manakin because the air smells like warm horse poo and pine trees.  It’s hilly and pretty and I can run on the roads without feeling like I’m going to be hit by a truck or texting car driver every 30 seconds.  I was able to look at all the holiday crud and be happy for those warm and cozy families all locked up behind their gift wrapped doors and overly-wreathed windows.  I saw a woman watching me struggle up a hill as she glanced out her window; it struck me that perhaps she was looking at me wishing we could trade places.  You never know what people are thinking on the other side of the window.  I mean, I’m out working my lungs, mind and body in beautiful sharp sunshine while she was marinating some piece of meat or cleaning the house for the 28 people about to descend on her.  Who got the winning end of the deal?  I DID. 

Tonight, I took Laura up on her offer of sushi.  She made me laugh loudly and inappropriately.  I love talking with Laura because we can switch between heavy intellectual stuff and ridiculous topics without missing a beat.  Watching Laura make the spicy girl roll “face of pleasure” nearly rendered me incapable of eating my own food, but somehow I managed.  It seems that whenever I feel lowest, I open my eyes and there are options.  The best part of this is that lately, the option has been that I’m able to sit with my feelings, alone, and support myself, alone. 

I white knuckled it all year.  Most of the time I made bad decisions, but either way, I survived.  I’m still here, intact, and finally at a place where I can just hang out in my head and be okay with it.  The bad moments are just that - bad moments.  I lean into them, let them roam around for a while, then put them out to pasture. 

Heartbreak, separation, divorce - there is a rhythm to the process just like there is for marriage.  Dating, committing, engagement, marriage.  Divorce is less cut and dried, more fluid, more scary.  I watch one of my friends going through the process, about 6-7 months behind me.  I look at my friend Wynne, divorced about 2 years before me, and where she is today.  I’m hopeful that one day my life will more closely resemble Wynne’s than the me of today, but either way I know I did the right thing.  And I want to tell my friend, walking in the ugly dark place from which I’ve recently emerged that the other side is a much brighter place and smells like horse poo and pine trees. 

No one could hurry my process and no pacifier or security blanket, in any shape or form, could comfort me until I was able to comfort myself.  This means I can’t be a security blanket for anyone else, and I can’t make the pain stop or throw up enough distractions to make the feelings go away.  What I’ve found, though, is a whole universe of amazing people and amazing inner strength throughout the process.  In my head I build my perfect life, whatever that means, and I don’t worry about how I’m going to achieve it.  I just let myself have the thoughts and feel comfortable knowing that this path is my own - there is no right or wrong, as my dad reminded me. 

That’s why I am not upset about the white knuckling going on right now.  It’s hard, yes, but my Christmas this year will be unlike any other.  That’s not all 100% bad either.  There were some parts of my previous life that needed to go bye bye, and some of them have to do with Christmas and New Year’s.  Instead of letting traditions define me, I’m going to define traditions this year.  If that means dinner out followed by The Black Swan with Stanley, then I’m lucky I have those options.  In the meantime, I’m getting through it and enjoying the bright spots in my days. 

Occasionally I can be concise.  So here I go.

It’s been less than 3 times since my infamous meltdown that I’ve had terrible, awful, soul-wrenching nights.  I had one last night, but I’m here today. 

This morning I skipped my run.  Everyone said it was okay to do that, but I still felt weird.  I got the girls off to school and went back to bed.  It was 58 degrees in my room, because this house is just *so* well insulated.  Thora got on my feet.  I went to the dark space where thoughts go away. 

As my therapist texted me last night, she reminded me that my fears of ending back where I was (in a hospital) only makes them worse.  I tried to suspend the fears.  I realized, as I sat with my feelings and allowed them to wash over me, that I have new coping skills and I was unconsciously using them.  I sent John a text.  I tried calling Philip.  I sent an email to Theresa.  I drank tea, finally gave in and took a pill for the anxiety, and petted the dog.  Even though it felt like the attack wasn’t going to end, I heard my friends telling me that it was going to end.  They reassured me that I have the skills necessary to cope now, and I wasn’t going to spontaneously combust with sadness and fear.  They were right.

This morning, Theresa pounded on my door until I opened it.  She made my bed so I couldn’t get back in it, made my kids’ beds, and picked up stuff around the house.  She brought my favorite chai with her and shouted, “It’s TnT today!!!!”  (Theresa and Tea).  I felt surrounded, and although I had to go through all of the stuff I did last night, in the back of my mind I knew I was going to make it. 

It’s a big victory for me, even though I am still raw as hell and reluctant to face this weekend.  I guess what’s victorious about it is that even though I am not feeling great, and still want to go back to bed, I’m not going to and instead I’m using all the things I’ve learned in the past year and half to deal with my horrible mood swing.  The stars in the sky last night, the sound of my wind chimes, the amazing dog I have, and the sound of my friend’s voices rallying behind me - all of those things I’m grateful for.