In the spirit of the original song, I bring you excerpts from 2010 in letters that were never sent. 

I do a lot of writing.  Most of it is published here, some of it is sent to the individuals, and some of it sits in my documents folder waiting for the send to be pressed or to be burned in a bonfire of epic proportions later.  These are my favorite excerpts.

I’m not going to belabor all the reasons I feel the way I do.  You are aware of the good and bad of our relationship.  Although there were times I wanted to smash the face of the people in your life that hurt you, I didn’t judge you for the way you handled your relationships or your marriage.  You never had to apologize for what you said – it was your opinion – but the manner in which you said it and continued to say it destroyed me at a time when I most needed you.  Giving support doesn’t always mean agreeing.  It just means that you are willing to stick it out. 

I am so proud of the work you’ve done.  I know you don’t give yourself credit, because I’ve been there too.  You feel like you’re still stuck in the same place you were 6 months ago but you’re not.  The distance you’ve covered amazes and inspires me. Keep going.  I promise you that there is an end to this particular kind of hell. 

i’ve said it before.  you have a serious drinking problem.  when you lash out at me anonymously or not, there are repercussions.  i have feelings and chalking up the awful words you spew when you’re drunk or recovering from being drunk are not easily mended.  you want honesty from me, but you’re not going to get it until you are honest with me as well.  i don’t want to see you at night like i’ve seen you.  you are so much more than this and watching you flail around and make terrible decisions isn’t good for me either. 

have you looked in the mirror lately?  if you know what you are doing is wrong - and you DO know - stop it.  knock it off.  hemingway has already been there and done that.  you going down in a blaze of anti-glory isn’t cool anymore and it hasn’t been cool since we were 16.  she wins if you let her win.  it’s hard work being self-destructive; even harder to get healthy.  it requires a huge dedication to being well and avoiding the same mistakes you’ve made.  i watch you going down the same path that made me lose respect for you years ago.  you are worth the fight - so fight.  maybe one day soon you’ll realize i’m worth the fight too.  maybe one day, i’ll realize i’m worth it.

When am I done paying my dues?  I work hard, I’ve been working hard.  I don’t believe you ever stop paying.  Life seems to be made up of one bill after another, and I’m training myself to enjoy the surprise and unexpected challenges that life presents.  This isn’t to say that on nights like tonight, I wish it was just so much easier.  I wish we had the ability to grab coffee after work, or go to the park, or clean out your garage just because we feel like it or you need my help.  You never wanted to sell my kids on eBay (remember that?) - you actually think of them as part of the joy that is me, instead of separating them from me.  It’s genuine and it’s not something you can fake.  It’s the only time these days I feel whole and truly accepted for who I am, quirks and warts and all.

Yesterday was the last straw for me.  If you think you’re going to have a heart attack at your age, based on stress and anxiety, then you need to do something about it.  We’ve discussed and discussed what it is you need to do.  You aren’t going to.  This means I can’t hang out and watch you kill yourself, or take it out on me, or act like I’m the crazy one.  For once, you’ve got me beat - hands down - on who is running the crazy train. It’s you, and you are going to implode if you don’t get some help.  Never in my life has anyone ever talked to me the way you do.  If you want a stupid person in your life don’t choose me.  No matter how much you try to run me down and get me to your level, I don’t bend that low and I’m not going to let you beat me down.  If you want to wreck your life, ruin your career, and never have a real relationship with anyone at any level, have at it - but I’m done with this mess.

You win a big trophy for breaking my trust the most and the hardest.  Good for you, because this particular scar will be with me the rest of my life.  I’m sending you a bill for the next 6 months of therapy to undo what you’ve done. 

I have to thank you for something, because saying I’m sorry for ‘ruining your life’ isn’t going to cut it anymore.  I will never regret anything because of what I gained from it.  They are amazing, and beautiful, and smart, and they will survive and be even stronger and more amazing.  You have control only over how you handle our lives going forward.  We don’t have to be “that” family.  We can choose to be different and we can choose to be kind.  You tell me I live in a fantasy world.  I’m okay with that.  It’s a lot more fun on my side of the universe than yours.

I’ve been holding on for over 20 years to a lot of rage and anger.  I’ve been dragging your history around with me, and I’m tired.  I just decided to drop it one day.  It’s not mine anymore.  I forgive you, I forgive me, I forgive the us that lived back then.  We were both stupid and careless and mean-spirited and sometimes heartless.  You were always trying to define my reality for me and tell me what was cool.  I usually believed you, and learned not to trust myself.  I forgive you.  I always told you I was okay with anything you wanted - being fiercely independent and letting you know how I totally didn’t need you was all I cared about.  We both lied and we lied a lot.  Please forgive me.  There were many good things I learned from us - like the fact that I could tell you anything and everything and you held it close to the vest.  I learned how to communicate at a different level entirely.  I learned to write better because you gave me honest feedback, even though the other feedback from you was anything but.  And recently, I learned that I can forgive you without giving you access to hurt me again.  It’s all good now.  There isn’t enough left of the me you knew to hurt.  We’ve both arrived on the other side of this looking like World World III but smelling like roses. 

I love you, but I don’t like you and I don’t respect the person you are.  And I am petrified that it’s only going to get worse, and I will be stuck faking it for the rest of my life.

Thank you for the gift you gave me.  I can’t imagine how nerve-wracking it must have been, trying to figure out the right combination of elements.  You nailed it.  It was one of the best gifts of my life because it was completely unexpected. It was perfect in so many ways.  In all ways.  You can take all the knowledge you have of me and find this small box and fit in there what makes me the happiest.  I don’t know how you do it, but I’m amazed.

Editor’s note:  this is a VERY long blog post and written mainly for myself, though really most of my blog is written for me.  I have permission from the person in my post to write about his divorce and issues, so no one’s privacy is being violated.  That being said, it is not a normal post for me and focuses mainly on how the past is currently affecting me. 

________

I have a love/hate relationship with Michigan.  Most of my ire, and my true love, is directed at the northern part of the mitten and specifically my hometown of Traverse City. 

Growing up there would have been close to idyllic had I not been freezing to death the whole time.  For 3 or 4 months, the weather is perfect, the sun shines, the bay sparkles, boats sputter around, fudgies invade Front Street for Cherry Festival, and traffic is backed up for miles.  In the winter people hunker down in bars and heavy coats.  There’s a lot of drinking, snowmobiling, and doing donuts in large parking lots.  As a teen, Traverse City is boring with a capital B, but it’s safe and insulated and you realize later in life that Boring can be Wonderful. 

I love Michigan at times - mostly when I go back and I fall back into the old rhythms and cadence of speech that make me sound like a crazy yooper, and see my old friends, who have changed along with me.  I miss it desperately before I’ve even left, when my toes are in the sand and I’m looking at Christmas Cove and remembering what it was like before they paved the fire road and made it a park, accessible to any tourist with a good map.  My hideaways on the peninsula are now developed neighborhoods - as close to suburban sprawl as TC will ever get.  I miss how small it is, yet how independent it remains.  There is a certain scrappiness to those in my hometown.  They trudge to work on snowshoes or in cars, no batting of eyes at miserable road conditions or ice or winds that make you feel like you are being ripped in half.  I love the spirit up there, and the cliched midwestern friendliness.  So many strangers and so many conversations.  Everyone knows someone who knows you.  This is good and bad, of course.

I despise Michigan because I have a lot of bad memories from there, too.  I hate the weather, the way it brings me to my knees when I realize how much my blood has thinned and what a wimp I am.  I frown upon people who never left TC.  When I went to college, I waved in the general direction of the bay and never looked back.  Not until now, I guess.  I needed space from it and all the crud and beauty that goes with growing up in a small town.  Now, bigger and wearing inappropriate “city” clothes, it seems less aggravating and more a place to hibernate.  It feels . . . safe. 

(safe for me, but not my suitcase, in the snow, wheels not effective)

I’ve been to Traverse City enough as an adult to have replaced my bad memories with good ones.  The same can’t be said for the Detroit metro area, but I’m getting there. Lots of people saw that I was going to Northern Michigan and were trying to figure out why one would willingly venture into a land that isn’t very friendly in winter. 

So . . .

I went to Traverse City last weekend to help my friend Philip, who is going through something similar to my own disaster.  Philip was my high school boyfriend, the one that drove my parents crazy because he had long hair (and once it was blue, and leaked color onto my mother’s beige couch - a moment he flatly refuses to remember and one that has scarred my mother for years).  His parents were recovering hippies (they never recovered), and were, what my mother said disdainfully, “lenient”.  I came from lock and key stock - curfews were followed to the minute, alibis were constantly checked and most of my stories were not believed (thanks a lot, by the way, to my brother and sister who used every trick in the book to train my dad to be suspicious).  He wore t-shirts with weird band names on them.  He was also unfailingly polite and good-natured, kind in a way I never was.  He was rarely mean, and this was a nice smoothing edge to my rocky persona.  He rode the waves of my mood swings while dealing with his own issues quietly and behind the scenes.  He was immature, as we all were at 16, but in many ways he was already grown up. 

His parents split the year we began dating and his mother, whom I was close to, moved out of the house and eventually to Chicago. I spent countless afternoons playing housefrau to his younger brother and father.  I checked that laundry was being done (usually it wasn’t), dishes were put away (they weren’t), and when the bathroom and kitchen floors got overly gross, I cleaned them.  You could feel the sadness and despair in that house.  Philip’s little brother just missed his mom; his dad missed his wife, and Philip was mostly just angry.  And confused. 

Those days, we spent a lot of time roaming around the peninsula after his dad got home and we were done watching his brother.  We talked a lot; I also felt even then that Philip was going to end up taking the easy way out and just caving in on himself.  At that point he didn’t really care about school, or college, or much of anything other than me, a few friends, and music.  I nagged at him.  I pointed out how capable he was.  I told him he was smart.  He didn’t believe me. 

It was your typical freshman year breakup story and there’s nothing original about ours, other than he was two years younger than me so he was more heartbroken when things ended.  I had college to distract me - he was still “stuck” in TC.  Besides, we fought all the time and I was in the throes of misery adjusting to being a freshman, away from home for the first time, and I wasn’t really all that pleasant to be around anyway.

Throughout the years, we maintained contact.  There was a span in there where we didn’t talk much, or at all.  A few years back a mutual friend provided a bridge and we began talking again.  He’d married the cool chick of TC (who wasn’t from TC, but that’s splitting hairs). He’d finished college.  He was a financial nerd who had realized he was smart.  His wife started a business; he went back for his MBA.  His dad had remarried, his mom was still rockin’ the weaving loom and barely surviving and everything was different but the same. 

I had brunch with Philip and his wife a year and a half ago, during my 20 year reunion.  We met at one of the amazingly cute (and good!) restaurants that have popped up off the beaten track of Front Street.  One of my high school best friends went with me for moral support - I was exceedingly nervous that Philip and Wife would look just like they did 20 years ago, and I’d be the old wrinkled hag. I had nothing to worry about.  His wife tolerated me and we chatted.  Philip was quiet, but then again, that’s kind of his way.  We parted ways and said we’d stay in touch. 

As I watched them walk away, I was struck with how different his life was from mine.  With no kids, disposable income could be spent on art and travel and music.  They were northern Michigan chic, which means they look cool when they are dressed down.  I was still wearing heels because that’s what a good girl does, in Richmond, for Sunday brunch.  They were cute together - they’d been together a long, long time and it showed.  Everything about their interaction was relaxed and smooth.  I felt like a spaz - I’d gotten no sleep, had just dealt with a ton of people from my not-so-fun high school years, and I couldn’t seem to shut up. 

Soon after my trip to TC, my life fell apart.  He called right after I’d officially separated and ended up in the hospital.  I cried my eyes out.  Even after all those years, I still didn’t mind letting him see me, warts and all.  He was calm, and patient.  Every month or so he’d call or send an email to see how I was.  In the meantime, his wife was getting her business off the ground and we talked strategy and marketing and finances.  It helped get my mind off my life. 

In May, I got a phone call from Philip.  His wife had come home and announced she wanted a divorce.  It was as complete shock to him, and there was no talking her out of her decision.  There are many stories, probably on both sides, as to what happened.  For me, though, I try not to make either party the villain.  It’s very hard when your friend is the one being hurt, but I tried not to rake her over the coals even though I wanted to.  I really did.  Internally I made comparisons.  At least I TRIED.  Why couldn’t she?  At least I WAS THE ONE who had to DEAL WITH THE HOUSE.  She just moved out and left him to deal all of it.  And so on.  And so forth.

This summer, while I dealt with dating disasters and Philip began to come out from under his own personal hell, we talked about our respective marriages.  Sometimes I cried; sometimes I made him laugh.  Sometimes I was really strong for him, other times he was the one who single-handedly talked me out from hiding in my bedroom.  In an interesting twist of fate, we both had misdiagnosed issues that we’d been dealing with for years.  His was a contributor to the failure of his marriage, just as mine was.  It took both of us hitting rock bottom at different points to get the correct diagnoses; we are both better people today because of that fall.  During my outer banks vacation with the kids, I sat on top of a dune overlooking the ocean because it was the only place with reliable cellular reception.  I told him how hard it was taking a vacation without Mike.  I told him how exhausting it was, but that I was happy I was able to do it for the kids.  Something had just blown up between him and the Wife, and he was upset and devastated.  I looked up at the sky and watched the moon rise.  I realized that it didn’t matter how much time had passed for me.  Once I care about someone, I always will.  It’s my Achilles Heel and one of my best character traits.

There were three or four people during this period of my life that I allowed to help me.  He was on speed dial.  I let him support me, and I wasn’t scared.  I just knew he wasn’t going to kick me. 

This is why, when he asked me to come up in December, I said yes.  We’d gone to a wedding in October, and I met some of his friends.  We were goofy, mature, and full of energy.  The December trip was supposed to be more work.  His house was still a mess from what the Wife had taken when she left. Boxes, papers, random objects littered the entire house.  Philip works full-time and is getting his MBA.  Needless to say he wasn’t overly motivated to get the house together, but mentally it was exhausting him.  I love a challenge.  It definitely was that.

Being outside of the situation, I was wholly unprepared for what it did to me.  His marital home was in disarray.  It was a literal reflection of his marriage, and his divorce.  The house was half-together.  Empty spaces, blank spaces on desks where dust wasn’t because something had recently been taken.  A mop without any attachments.  A lone pair of socks that are way too small to be Philip’s. 

It brought me back to the days after Mike moved out, and my house was this weird mish-mash of things.  Even now, I am annoyed when I need a small plate and realize once again that he took 3 of the 8.  Philip parted with art he didn’t want to.  He is still missing pieces of his vast music collection. 

We spent the weekend spending his money, on exciting things like a floor mop and cleaning supplies.  We sorted piles of papers and started a new filing system.  He moved things around until the house started to feel like “his” instead of “theirs”.  I made him run 6 miles with me - it was the first run I’d ever done in Traverse City.  I wasn’t into exercise back then, unless it involved writing.  We ate dinner at a fantastic place out in Glen Arbor.  I got to see Tricia and Sammy, more briefly than I wanted, but saw them nonetheless. 

And for the first time since my own life’s demise, I was able to give back to someone who was going through what I had just gone through.  As hard as it was emotionally, it was incredibly cathartic too. 

Leaving Michigan was hard this time - both literally and figuratively (see video).  We got slammed with a snowstorm and almost didn’t get out of TC.  Emotionally, leaving was hard because I felt useful for the first time in ages, and I felt safe.  Insulated from all the familiar roads and faces of Richmond, laughing my ass off because people consider their North Face jackets to be “cocktail apparel”, and roaming around on dark and snowy streets was a huge blast of energy for me.  I didn’t want to leave, because like any escape from reality, the reality waiting is always so much harder. 

In the end, I feel amazingly lucky to have maintained a few of the friendships I started when I was just a little punk rock wannabe.  It’s nice when people grow along with you, and yet when you meet in the middle some years later, you are still connected with a thread of understanding and it’s easy - so easy - to just be. 

(circa 1989)

Yesterday is still fresh in my mind.  Being a complete Emotional, whenever I think back to the end (and really, the last three miles), I start getting choked up.  There isn’t much point in rehashing the miles run yesterday, so I’m going to focus on the high points of the day and send thanks out where thanks are more than due.

First, Theresa has always been entirely supportive and downright crazy about running.  She’s helped me with everything from how not to shart yourself while running to the importance of being stylish (“if you look good, you run better”), and has always and unfailingly been there for me in so many ways.  Rather than run her own race yesterday, she told me she’d meet up with me at mile 10 and run me in.  Unfortunately, she and Todd had to put their dog Echo down yesterday morning.  Through tears and massive amounts of communication she had Prissie meet up with us at mile 10 - and I was so grateful.  Those last 3 were brutal and all of my teammates were struggling.  Prissie’s good humor and smiling face was a huge part of me finishing.  Best of all, somehow Theresa moved mountains and after putting Echo to sleep, hauled ass downtown and managed to find me ON THE COURSE at mile 12.9.  She ran the last 2/10ths with me, complete with pom poms and screaming.  It was one of the most amazing moments in my life.

Second, Stanley got me into this mess and has trained with me from the beginning. He understands my issue with weight and self-confidence, especially when surrounded by runners who not only run much faster but look, in my head, so much better.  We trained, we struggled, we got frustrated, we motivated each other and most of all, we just showed up for each other.  Stanley had a severe cramping issue around mile 8 and we unfortunately left him.  I know how horrific cramps can be; I had one at the 12 mile training run and I thought I was going to lie down in the middle of the road and beg for mercy.  Stanley pulled every bit of strength inside himself and told the medics who were telling him to stop to get lost and finished.  He ran 5 miles in excruciating pain and still managed to hug the team when he crossed the finish line.  I am not too proud to admit that when we saw each other, we both cried our eyes out and gave each other sweating, stinky hugs.  Stanley has always inspired me - he still does, and I’m incredibly proud of him. 

Third, Windsor.  Not only did she show up voluntarily on a very cold morning on a Saturday, she ended up saving my day by helping with the kids (I was able to soak my aching body, enjoy my brunch with everyone including her and my kids, and nap and eat dinner sans children in the afternoon).  She babysat for me during the Saturdays I had the children during my training runs - this meant showing up at my house, again on Saturday mornings, between 6.45 and 7 am.  She never complained.  She knew how important the race was for me and she was the first face I saw at the finish line.  She got to see me shaking and crying too.  Unfortunately we were separated by two sets of barricades but she probably didn’t mind not being hugged by my sweaty body. 

Fourth, John.  John and Karen have been friends since our kids met at Rainbow Station and Lily bonded with Emma for life.  John was diagnosed with diabetes earlier in the year and got back into running.  He has managed to control his condition through diet and exercise and he looks great. Although he trained on his own (how he did that I do not know), we ran together in the initial stages of training until he got ridiculously fast.  He completed his first half marathon in UNDER 2 hours!!!  He understood the magnitude of importance this race had for me, and I understood his focus on it as well.  I missed him at the finish line but his family had brunch with us after and I can’t express in words how amazed and inspired I am by his accomplishment. 

Fifth, my entire training team - the CHEETAHS!  I had amazing coaches - Cindy, Ginny, Lenora, Raegan, Kara . . . they were unfailingly chipper and supportive.  Meeting Meg and Sarah on one of the first training runs was life-altering.  Meg makes running look easy even when she wants to curl up and die, and Sarah’s hilarious stories of roommates, husband, lawyers and running happenings made the longer runs fly by.  Stanley usually left us in the dust so we ran together.  Over time, Sarah became Chief in Charge of Navigation and never failed us (dude, that Hollywood Cemetery fiasco was TOTALLY Sportsbackers’ fault).  Meg became Provider of Gummy Bears in Individually Wrapped Plastic Baggies and I was elected Pace Nazi (and later, Calorie Shouter - as in “HOLY SHIT WE BURNED 1136 calories so far!”).  Stanley was Chief Operating Officer of Humor and made ridiculous and hilarious comments when we all needed them.  Ro ran one of our long runs with us - head coach of the entire Half training team - and inspired us as well.  There were so many people who showed up, physically and mentally, and made this thing work for me.  Even though Theresa was horrified at the lime green ugliness of our team singlets, every time coaches or other team members saw us on the course is was a love and cheer fest. 

Sixth - my kids.  They don’t really get the whole running thing but they always hugged me when done with my runs and told me congratulations.  Arden never told me I smelled, even though I know she was thinking it, and Lily was the provider of many post-run kisses and even rubbed my legs when I bribed her with chocolate.  I tried not to let my running affect my time with them, but honestly toward the end, it did a bit.  They were patient girls and my running made me a better mom in the long run (pun intended). 

Big thanks to Sarah and Meg’s husbands, respectively Tim and Brad, and my friend Sean.  Tim and Brad handled race transportation and dropped us off right by the Capitol steps for our group pictures. Sean got up at the crack of dawn to take me to Sarah’s house for group transport, took pictures, suffered through the cold to cheer us on at mile 2, and again at the finish line.  He was a huge cheerleader for me, even though I know deep down he wondered if I was crazy.  (I AM!)  He also took me out for sushi last night at my favorite place, even though he hates sushi and is really, REALLY tired of eating tempura so I can get my raw fish fix.  My neighbor Tara ran many Thursday morning training runs with me and was always a blast with her humor and blunt communication style.  My neighbor and good friend Charlette ran Tuesday mornings with me and reminded me that I am so amazingly indebted to the people who have gotten me through the last year and half AND the last year of training.  Charlette was so worth the amount of time it took to get to know her.  Julie was always posting Facebook comments on every run - she loves to run too - and all of those comments added up and I actually felt like she was running the half with me. 

Finally, I’m grateful for my body.  After years spent hating it (and still have a hate/hate relationship with it most of the time), I looked down at my legs last night and thanked them for getting me through a very grueling experience.  The pictures are hard for me to look at - I wish I looked more runner-like and less “barrel on legs-like” - but this body with all of its quirks and scars carried me across the finish line.  The last half mile was horrible for me and everything in my brain was telling me to stop.  After months and months of training, my body did what I trained it to do. It went to autopilot, flipped off my brain and drove me through the gates at the end.  The training also made me mentally stronger. I never would have believed how much your thinking can affect your running but teaching my brain to obey my wishes instead of the other way around was an interesting process, to say the least.

Now that the half is over, it’s my hope that I will still be able to run with the friends who got me through my first half.  I’ll begin training for the next half marathon in February sometime in the next week or so. Until then, it’s yoga and weight training classes at the Y.  My poor legs need a break. 

My group from left to right: Stanley, Meg, Me, Sarah:

And me, truly and unbelievably happy . . . 2:23:40!

One of my besties has a great post up on his blog today called “The Countdown”.  It inspired me to steal his idea and write my own version. 

In case you are too lazy to read Stanley’s post, here’s the synopsis: 

It’s only November and the countdowns have already started: Thanksgiving, Christmas, Kwanza, New Year’s Eve, and the list goes on. Yet, these countdowns refer (more often than not) to how much time remains for you to accomplish your to-do list, instead of when you’ll celebrate the holiday; thus it begs the question, what do you need to accomplish before 2010 is over?

It’s probably no surprise that 2010 was a year of highs and very low lows.  My marriage imploded, the house was put on the market and finally sold amidst tons of drama and last minute financial wrangling, I moved into a very old rental house that was 2/3 smaller than the original house, my kids started a new school, i had some health issues and my kids have both been struggling in their own unique ways.  On the upside, I’m mentally stronger and healthier than I’ve ever been, mostly I’m doing fine, my businesses have survived yet another year in a crappy economy, I have some amazing friends and family, and my health issues are under control. 

This all begs the question: what do I need to finish up before 2011 begins?

First, I want to finish the half marathon.  Not only do I want to finish it, I want to enjoy it.  Before the end of the year, I will have completed:
- my first training program
- my first 10K
- my second training program for the summer
- my third training program for the half marathon
- the Run Like A Girl 8k in Richmond
- the half marathon on November 13
- the 10k Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving morning
- The Christmas Tree 10K on December 11
- The Resolution 4 Miler Run on New Year’s Eve

I write this all down because I really want to commit to doing them all.  For a girl who had never run, I’m excited and motivated to stay in the shape I’m in and improve. 

Secondly,  I really, really want to improve the quality of my children’s lives. I have no idea how I’m going to do this but they have been through so much change this year.  Before the end of the year I’d like to have a better visitation schedule hammered out between me and Mike.  I’d like to ensure that it injects the minimum amount of chaos into their lives and I’d like to see both them acting more like their happy, carefree selves.  Seeing Lily a bit withdrawn and Arden doubly full of piss and vinegar is not only making their lives more difficult, it’s preventing them from accepting and moving on from all the change in 2010. 

Third, I’d like to have better communication with Mike.  This is mostly up to him.  I’d like to work on talking (not texting or emailing) more regularly so that we are communicating about the girls and what we notice or what is happening - not just the bad stuff or when one of them is sick or needs help with a school project.  I think that the disconnect between us is making things harder on the girls.  We don’t have a lot of continuity or agreement on how we discipline/reward the kids because neither of us knows what the other is doing.  Additionally I’ve been reluctant to share my struggles with him because I don’t want him thinking I suck as a mother more than he may already.  I have to get over this.  I’m hoping he can get over the very difficult task (no sarcasm here, I know how hard it is for him) of being in the same room with me or talking for more than 30 seconds to me.  Seeing him recoil from me or look like he’d rather be having a Brazilian wax is very painful - for both of us - and probably not very productive for the kids.

Fourth, I wrote a novel last November.  It’s disjointed but you know what?  It’s pretty decent.  I’d really like to finish rereading it - and maybe get another 1/3 of the way through editing it.  Instead of wasting my limited free time on Facebook, I could be working on that instead. 

Fifth, I want to make a firm decision on a couple of business questions. I am seriously considering closing one of my websites.  I’ve got some financial/analysis-minded friends looking at it and I will make up my mind before December 31 unless they tell me not to.

Sixth, I want to lose another 10 pounds before December 31.  My weight loss stalled during the training program - I’ve been reassured that this is normal, but I don’t like it.  I will say that my rear end is extremely muscular now and my body shape has definitely changed for the better, but I’d still really enjoy seeing the scale move in a downward direction. 

So what about you?  What’s on your list?  What are you proud of - and what do you want to change or improve? 

I am FINALLY coming out of the funk of all funks.  I’ve been funking so long, I’ve forgotten that I’m even IN a funk.  It started to feel normal to me.  I don’t like that version of normality.

My kids stepped off the bus today.  I haven’t seen them since Thursday afternoon.  They shrieked and squeezed me and told me how much they loved me; within an hour, they were back to fighting.  However, those initial hugs and the “Mommy, I missed you SO much” comments made it all worth it.  We opened their little gifts from Alabama and headed off to the mall so Lily could get her new earrings cleaned and switched out. 

My trip to ‘Bama helped out a bunch.  First, I went with a friend I’ve known FOREVER.  22 years is a long time to know someone.  Hailing from the same state reminds one of all the weird cultural quirks that are indigenous to your wacky homeland; hailing from the same tiny hometown is just hilarious.  A close friend was getting married; I tagged along because hey, who doesn’t want to spend a weekend in Alabama? Not THIS girl!

A couple of things I learned about Alabama and myself while away:

1.  Northern Alabama is pretty.  Hilly, green, and friendly. 
2.  People in Alabama drive even worse than people in Virginia.  Holy god, it’s amazing we are still alive.
3.  If attending an afternoon wedding in Alabama, do not wear these shoes.  It’s overkill. 

4.  Always ask the person you’re attending the wedding with, “Is this an afternoon or an evening wedding?”  Depending on the answer, adjust your shoe preference. 
5.  Alabama is really.  REALLY.  REALLLLLY conservative. 
6.  Rose and Allen were the bomb.  Their families were wonderful and welcoming and Rose made me cry twice, because she was so kind.  You can see her beautiful photographs here.   I wish she lived closer; I’d actually enjoy having her photograph me and the girls.  She’d make us all look amazing. 
7.  Clinking glasses to make the bride and groom kiss is apparently a very northern thing.  I found this out when everyone stared silently at us, wondering why we were hitting our knives on the wine glasses and making hooting sounds. 
8. Running 10 miles in the rain before a half day of sitting on a plane is generally a bad idea.
9.  Sometimes, people from your past can make the present that much better. 

Getting out of Richmond even for a few days helped me shake the fog off my psyche.  Truthfully, I needed a break from my home and the things in it.  I needed a break from thinking too much about things that aren’t good for me.  I needed to stop being indignant and hostile because frankly SOME PEOPLE ARE JUST SO DARN STUPID AND THEIR STUPIDITY AFFECTS OTHER PEOPLE DAMMIT.  Alabama and my friends helped erase the indignation and help me accept that yep, some people are stupid and really, at the end of the day, it’s me that’s stupid for letting them piss me off.  My friend is going through a wacky divorce process too, complete with some serious depression and sadness, so we’ve alternated being each other’s rocks.  There was a morning not too long ago where I didn’t think I could get out of bed.  I was right; I didn’t get out of bed til close to lunch, but with some conversation and texting I made it through.  Those simple reminders of “this too shall pass” and other trite phrases can sometimes be all I need to make it another 24 hours. 

I laugh sometimes about my “impulsivity”.  It was an impulsive decision to agree to go to Alabama.  But as many times as I regret my impulsivity, 75% of the time the most wonderful things happen when I stop overthinking everything and trust my gut.  Therapist Jennifer tells me my judgment is right on, as long as I’m actually listening to what it tells me.  In this case, my judgment WAS right on.  I went, I laughed, I remembered why people like me.  I remembered why I liked myself, and that was the best part of it all.