It’s no secret that I have strong associations (and love) for music.  With the exception of screaming speed metal, I can listen to just about anything.  It started way back in 1989, when I DJ’d at a college radio station.  I took the slots they gave me - and one of them was called “The Revolving Fandango”.  It was literally a song from every genre of music one could think of.  Being 17-ish, I had no idea what to play for Blues, or Folk, or C&W, and most of the rock was alternative.  Thankfully I had some education in Jazz courtesy of my dad (he loved to drive my mom nuts with scat jazz).  I would wander around the tiny, smelly (think bean burritos, rank beer, a faint scent of urine, and something that always reminded me of moss) lovingly fingering the album covers, pulling them out and placing them on the turntables. 

Because 90% of this music was new to me, I learned A LOT about music genres and my taste buds for music became far more sophisticated than my taste buds for food.  It’s still that way. 

Along the way, music has been a backdrop for whatever I was going through in my life.  I would bond with albums and later CDs and now MP3s like lovers, depending on my mood and their staying power.  During the initial stage of my separation, I listened incessantly to Iron and Wine, Shawn Colvin and David Gray’s Draw the Line, which to this day I swear he wrote just for me. 

Nicole told me I had to listen to the new Court Yard Hounds offering.  Never a huge fan of traditional country music, I do confess to liking the Dixie Chicks.  I like them still with their lead singer on hiatus from them.  Emily Robison’s divorce obviously plays a huge part in the songwriting.  Nothing soothes my broken-down soul than other women crooning their way through their broken fairytales.  Misery indeed loves company. 

The opening song is called “Skyline” and I’ve put it right down there for you.  It’s my life, in this moment, in a nutshell.  Or an MP3 player, embedded on this site, which is way more tech savvy than a nutshell.  (or not so much, considering it took a good 30 minutes to figure out how to do this)

If you don’t feel like listening to the song (but you should), the lyrics are as follows:

What am I doin’ here
In such a lonely place?
Birds fly below
I’m high up in my cage

Wide awake again
Or am I dreamin’?
Trains passing by
World’s spinning ‘round my head

Then I heard a sweet voice cry
Telling me, yeah it’s gonna be alright

I just look at the skyline
A million lights are lookin’ back at me
And when they shine
I see a place I know I’ll find some peace
I just look at the skyline

I used to rush around
To keep busy in the day
Then we’d sit up and drink
We might find something new to say
No, I can’t live this way…

But then I heard that sweet voice cry
Telling me, yeah it’s gonna be alright

I just look at the skyline
A million lights are lookin’ back at me
And when they shine
I see a place I know I’ll find some peace
I just look at the skyline

I look at the skyline
A million lights are lookin’ back at me
And when they shine
I see a place I know I’ll find some peace
I just look at the skyline

What am I doin’ here
In such a lonely place?

In other non-divorce-related news . . .

Lily has always been fascinated with art. She’s been drawing since she could hold any type of instrument with color in it.  Her first grade class had a final project, and it was to draw the Queen of England.  Here’s her rendition:

Considering my artistic abilities consist of stick figures and lines that are never straight, I was impressed that my 7 year old is already drawing better than me.  She did it in watercolors and proudly explained that she made the “peach” color by mixing pink and yellow and a tiny bit of brown to give it just the right shade.  Arden’s teachers also tell me she’s advanced in art, but when they are your kids, it’s just the way they are.  I really try not to be like many of the moms I know, who think every little thing their child does is the BEST, most BRILLIANT, most GENIUS thing on earth.  Everyone has their talents and skills; Lily’s is definitely art and writing.  I can only take credit for the writing. 

Her first grade recognition assembly is on Thursday; she’s getting an award for something that will hopefully make sense during the presentation (it’s called something like “Appreciating Differences”) and an award for missing only 1 day of school and no tardies.  She would have had perfect attendance had I not given us all the stomach flu.  Way to go, mom!

I’ve been fairly absent from the blogging/twitter/facebook world lately, but that’s only because I’ve been consumed by both client work and getting the house to a presentable level.  My kids apparently take after me - they don’t like chaos all up in their face, especially in their home.  Things are definitely better and I’ve been managing to accomplish quite a few tasks every day.

Robey was entirely awesome and surprised me Friday by showing up with both food and boys to help put things away and get my family room to the point where you could sit in it.  I plied them with Bourbon and we unpacked a bunch of boxes, and I got some much needed downtime on the screen porch when I probably should have been working.  One of the helpers didn’t even know me - I am glad I got to meet Alisa, and she’s really the bomb for showing up at a strange woman’s house to string lights and break down boxes. And Chad - sorry I spewed pink champagne on your shirt.  I’m not used to drinking from a glass I guess.

Since I’ve been here, I’ve put down new peel and stick tile in my bathroom, watched my brother rip out the bathroom sink and add a cabinet/vanity and a new toilet, ripped out a shower stall door, painted the bedroom, girls’ room and office, unpacked and organized the garage and gardening shed, hung some pictures, unpacked 95% of the boxes, and gone to the grocery store one time.  Last night my dad mowed the front lawn with the new self-propelled mower - that thing is awesome - and I did the back.  Today I spent some time dripping sweat everywhere as I blasted the mack daddy of camel crickets out of the garage with the leaf blower, as well as dust and leaves from who knows how long ago.  I’ve swept and touched more cobwebs and icky spiders than ever, and if this doesn’t cure my massive arachnophobia, nothing ever will.  The girls “decorated” the gardening shed playhouse with lights and pictures of sparkly princesses in ball gowns.  It makes me smile to think that while I’m potting some new flowers, I’ll have little pictures to remind me of their boundless joy and energy.  It doesn’t take much to make them happy.

We all took a much needed break today and headed to Southside to visit our new pool. I joined last night online; it’s affordable and I loved the pool.  It’s very, very “normal”.  None of the Wyndham pretensions, none of the battle of the mom-suits.  The majority were not anorexic with breast implants, and not everyone wore expensive designer suits that aren’t meant to get wet.  Some kids were *gasp* not white.  Some women were poorly dressed or chunkier than I.  The lifeguards were laid back and encouraged Arden to go down the very fast waterslide on her stomach (she did), and they all cheered loudly for her when she popped up victorious.  It takes me 15 minutes to get there, but it’s a road to another world.  There is nothing about it to remind me of past summers in the Wyndham pool, and instead of making me sad, it liberates me. 

I never hated this house I inhabit, but I will be honest.  The first few days here were, well, humbling.  Making ice cubes is a pain in the ass, and something I haven’t done in at least 14 years.  Everything is quirky with this house.  Some might say that’s “charming”, but at first it was just really annoying.  Taking a shower in the bathroom made me shudder.  Everything was coated in either grime or camel crickets or worse yet, random bugs I couldn’t name or spiders I could. The house smelled - that bad combination of old people who aren’t all that clean, uncontrolled and unchecked Virginia humidity, and dog (not mine, either).  I miss the landscaping at the old house and a few luxuries, like my bathtub.  My first nights were spent curled up feeling incredibly alone - not lonely - but alone.  Sometimes I’d cry or think I wasn’t going to make it, but I still never questioned my decision. 

A few weeks out, I’m feeling much better.  The house still has a funk to it, but it’s a diminished funk.  An exterminator has been called; there is a mass exodus of sick, moaning camel crickets from the crawl space and family room.  I haven’t seen any disgusting spiders inside the house, nor has another cockroach appeared in Lily and Arden’s room.  My bathroom has new, very clean, very inexpensive tile.  Nicole’s beautiful curtain designs completely changed my dreary bathroom and my very 1960’s kitchen into something that really looks quirky and charming instead of just really effing ugly.  My bedroom is tiny, but it smells good, has new linens and is completely and utterly mine.  A neighbor showed up with a bowl full of home-grown vegetables - it made me want to cry because it reminded me of the housewarming visits neighbors in Michigan would pay.  My experience in the last neighborhood was that visits were made, but mostly to see what car you drove and fact-finding questions that would be reported back to the minions of Prada-wearing mothers.  I was lucky; both my immediate neighbors were nothing like that - but there was nothing pretentious or nosy about a bowl full of weirdly-shaped zucchini and cucumbers. 

I had some very needed alone time this weekend as well.  I’m still working through a number of issues - decisions are looming, and I’m spending a lot of time thinking through both the “why” of my situation as well as the “what do I want” part.  I still work on gratitude lists and am amazed how many good people have helped me through what can only be described as a disaster of a year.  I wish certain things were different - better - easier - but I’m also through what I’d like to think of as the worst bits.  I’m looking forward to a new, less complicated, less energy-draining and soul-destroying rest of the summer. 

Who else is crazy enough to host a party a mere 7 days before moving out of the hosted location?  This guy, that’s who! 

I didn’t really care who saw my empty rooms and poorly-packed boxes.  Besides, within an hour or two, no one was really aware of the blank walls anyway.  A-hem. 

Dan is literally one of the first people I ever met through Twitter.  I screwed up my courage when The Checkout Girl asked me to go to a local burlesque show.  We met before the show - and Dan was in the mix. 

Other than those first two months, Dan has only known me as a person going through a divorce, trying new medications for unpleasant diagnoses, crying a lot, and sending vague text messages.  At the time I first met him, he was having his own issues and sometimes we’d sit and stare into space.  It was okay, because we were sad separately, but together.  Dan gave great hugs, listening to my ugly crying (it has a lot of snorting and swollen red face to go along with it).  I was there the night Dan met Nicole (The Checkout Girl is also an excellent matchmaker, at least in their case).  I was there during the brief - what was it, two week? - period when Nicole was a bit nervous about Dan, and there again when Nicole and Dan finally met on the same page and rode off into happily ever after.  Or something like that. 

In the time I’ve known Dan, he’s gone from a person who knew what he wanted but struggled with what road he needed to take to get there to the Dan of today - a well-loved, social media geek, a relied-upon local and personal weather source, and a good friend to many who deserve it and a few who don’t.  According to Nicole he’s also an amazing boyfriend.  Back then - a mere 11 months ago - Dan would occasionally show bits of insecurity.  Now, Dan is definitely The Man.  He always knew he was smart, but he got a ton of recognition and accolades this year.  He got his smart on and graduated from a local comm college Summa Cum Laude and is now off to Va Tech to finish out his degree.  After that he’ll be on to a masters and after that, he’ll be doing something weather-related that involves a lot of weird math with symbols that make my head spin just to look at it. 

Dan has literally been a lifesaver to me many times over the last year.  Did I mention literally?  Literally.  As I got to know Nicole better, she also supported me, propped me up, and listened to my random problems.  I’d like to think that occasionally I did the same for both of them.  After I got out of the hospital in September, Dan would call every other day or whenever he thought I was being too quiet and ask me how I was.  He also knew when I was lying and said I was fine.  He ate lunch with me and the kids, made ridiculous jokes, screamed ‘hey-oooooo’ at every inappropriate moment, and helped me with my designated driver duties on more than one occasion. 

That’s why I wanted to do something for Dan.  Thankfully Nicole was there to keep me sane during the process, because without her I definitely couldn’t have pulled it off.  Between the move, some health issues and that pesky thing known as owning a business and billable work for clients, I really wasn’t worth two poops. 

Nicole heads off to the mountains of VA in a little more than 4 weeks; Dan in about 8.  It was fitting that the party included a ton of twitter’s #rva local nerds and some of his friends from various jobs and quiz bowl.  A few of my friends were brave enough to show as well.  I could talk about the specifics of the party, but the pictures give a good indication of how fun it was.  I was able to throw caution to the wind and drink and eat whatever I wanted for a few hours.  Random people not fit to drive slept in random places in the house; it was a fitting end to my life in Wyndham.  My house was meant for throwing parties, though I rarely did.  Small gatherings are more my speed.  Being able to act like kids, lob water balloons and ruin the grass with a slip n’ slide - well, it just goes to show why I don’t belong where I do.  I’m okay with that. 

There were glowsticks.  A pinata.  A lot of pizza.  Way too much alcohol.  A keg of Legend beer.  Water and a lot of wet clothing.  Board games.  A lot of alcohol.  Rain.  Laughter.  A weather cake made fabulous by Nicole.  A Trevor (every party needs one).  Very few broken things.  A bit of a mess the next morning.  It was a success. 

Friends like Dan and Nicole don’t come around very often.  I’ve had lots of friends come and go, sometimes when things are too hard for them or too hard for me.  I would like to believe that based on our mutual dependence on the world wide interwebs that we won’t lose touch.  I hope I’m right.  A big thanks to Dan for helping me through the absolutely suckiest year of my life, and here’s to seeing me through some of the best.  I love you, man. 

www.flickr.com cdelbueno’s Dan Bash 2010 photoset

...my best friend received a devastating diagnosis.
...I found out I need a biopsy (it’s happening tomorrow!)
...I missed some major warning signs about a person in my life and really screwed things up.
...I continued to put myself last behind everyone else and their brother.
...I asked for help from people i didn’t want to help me, but had no choice.
...I helped someone i love learn how to commit someone they love to a mental hospital against their will.

it’s no wonder i have gotten NO work done and am so far behind that at this point, i don’t think i will ever catch up. 

my best friend wrote to me a couple of days again, and something she said really resonated with me.  she said: 

I’m changing a lot of the priorities and friendships in my life.  It just makes you recognize how petty and superficial a lot of the shit in life is.  I’m trying to clear that out and make room for what’s important.  And for that, I am grateful.  I think a lot of people live their whole lives trying to gain the approval of others and over the course of the past six months, I have just about totally eliminated a lot of the bullshit.  It also means I am eliminating friends, but that’s OK.  They weren’t real friends to begin with.

i’ve been going through that process for the last 8 months.  and even though right now it feels like the entire karmic universe is pooping on my head for sins i’ve committed that i’m unaware of (well, some of them, at least), another friend mentioned that “god is trying to get your attention”.  that’s possible too.  my attention has been gotten.  i’ve been faced with just about every nightmare situation i can come up with, yet i’m still able to hold my children at night and breathe in their sleepy scents.  even in the midst of what is most definitely a hurricane of epic emotional proportions, i continue to write about gratitude, model good behavior for certain people in my life, and attempt to balance on the fine point between supportive and enabling. 

i need to follow my best friend’s advice.  life really is too short.  you have no idea what curve balls are going to be thrown at you.  my life’s goal is not to be happy; happiness is fleeting.  life is hard and full of moments of joy or sadness.  being content, or secure in the decisions you’ve made, is what it’s all about for me.  learning not to get wrapped up in other’s issues, and help and hold the ones who deserve all that i have to offer, has been a hard lesson for me.  oddly i feel stronger right now than i’ve ever felt. 

as i changed the water filter in my expensive high-end refrigerator that will be left behind along with the rest of this ridiculous house, i realized it was the last time i’d ever have to change it.  the new refrigerator has no ice maker or water dispenser.  it sits on a floor of yellowed linoleum that probably should have been replaced a minimum of 15 years ago.  for the first time, i couldn’t wait to get onto that linoleum and back to ice cube trays.  i haven’t been on my own since 1999.  having my own space, being alone with the girls and the dog, getting some breathing room and figuring out why this all happened and why right now, seems necessary. 

i’ve reached a level of peace with my situation and for that i am most grateful.  our short sale may very well fall through; the second mortgage company is still dragging their feet, and the buyers are getting very nervous.  we are reaching month 4 of waiting.  regardless, i’m moving out.  mike has already left.  the house will sit here, empty, waiting for either a new family to come in and love it, or for the bank to come and take it.  i realize that there is absolutely NOTHING i can do about it - and i’m totally fine with it.  i can’t control what happens to me financially at this point and am making the best of an absolutely horrendous situation.  do i still have guilt that the father of my children is being dragged into this hell unwillingly?  i do, but i also know that he will end up much happier without me and with someone else than he realizes at this point.

i’m getting ready to say goodbye to dan and nicole, two people who have never hesitated to help when i’ve needed it.  hopefully i’ve been there for them as well.  there will be a legendary party at the house on saturday - it’s a graduation party for one of the few people i’ve ever known who graduated summa cum laude and know how to pronounce it.

(when i pronounced it, it sounded like the title of a porno)

they’re totally worth the drive to blacksburg, however, and i’ll be darkening their doorstep as much as i can, probably with two kids in tow. 

in the meantime, i’m going to keep focusing on the gratitude.  and trying to learn from my mistakes. 

Today I’m thankful for my sister.  She’s probably the single person I can tell everything to - unadulterated and unexceptional. She’s generally the first one to know that something is up - good or bad - and always manages to pretend she’s not shocked.  She’s had an amazing journey over the past year and it’s changed her for the better.  I could probably get rid of my fabulous shrink (not that I would ever do that!) and hire Risa instead.  My cold, stiff sister now uses words like “enabling” and “I feel statements” as easily as cursing out the dog for peeing on the floor. 

I have a friend dealing with some serious mental stuff.  My friend reminds me of me, a while back.  It goes a little something like this: 

I know there’s something wrong.  I’m wrong, I’m off.  Everything hurts.  I don’t have time to deal with it.  I’m going to ignore it.  I know the people who love me are suffering but it can’t be that bad for them.  I’m too busy to deal with it.  I’m losing friends over this. I am losing healthy relationships.  I don’t have time to deal with this.  I don’t have the money to deal with this (i’mscaredi’mscaredi’mscared).  Screw everyone who can’t deal with me.  I’m fine.  I’ve been this way forever.  Get off my back.  I’ll deal with this when I have time.  Just wait a little longer.  Give me a break, I’m trying to fix this myself! She’s crying again. I feel so bad.  I can’t fix this.  I’m unlovable - bad person - broken - screwed up. I can’t do this.  I don’t know how.  I can’t.

This whole mantra goes on and on, sometimes for years.  Eventually the circle of friends willing to put up with you narrows to a tiny cloister.  Your world narrows too.  So many things are off limits or scary or just feel wrong.  Sometimes you feel angry because no one “gets” you.  Other times you feel like a huge loser.  Watching friends, girlfriends, boyfriends come and go makes you sad and deep down you know you are the common denominator, but it hurts too much to really think about it, so you don’t.  You are living the phrase “If you meet more than one asshole in a day, look in the mirror”.  Frankly, regardless of the reasons or the excuses, you ARE an asshole at times.  You are so self-centered and miserable, there is no room left in your heart to be the person you were meant to be.  Therefore, your friends check in and out of you like a crappy Motel 6. 

The thing is, and it’s such a cliche, most problems just aren’t that difficult to solve.  Mental stuff is uncomfortable, sometimes painful, to poke.  But what’s the alternative?  Wallowing like a hippo in your own mental feces?  Great alternative.  I was stuck for so long that I’d take the pain or fear any day over that feeling of cement feet, being tossed off a dock.  It’s all about drowning, but it’s the slowest death possible, and it kills everything around you too. 

My sister understands the very fine line between tolerance and loving support and enabling.  She’s been on both sides of the fence.  At some point, in the very near future, I have to determine what side I’m on.  I don’t like watching people self-destruct.  It’s too painful to watch, and it reminds me of how very close I came to growing gills.  That’s how long I was underwater. 

In other news, a beautiful weeping cherry tree in our front yard died over the long winter.  Or so I thought.  I decided that I should procrastinate tonight and instead of working, I started trying to pull the dead tree out.  Nikki got in on the action and between the two of us, we generated enough arboreal testosterone to win.  Turns out the winter didn’t kill the tree - the f’ing VOLES did.  I can’t even being to estimate the amount of monetary damage those freakish blind rats have done.  Best memory ever:  finding the remains of a vole eating by a hawk in our neighborhood.  All that was left?  The vole’s nasty front teeth.  #awesome

Anyway, I was cursing the lack of men at first when I tried to chop it down. The hacksaw is old and about as sharp as a butter knife.  Sheer will and determination yielded this:

Who needs men?  Not me.  SO not me.