I had a friend. He was the type of friend that always greeted me with a hug and left me with a smile. We were friends through work changes and life changes. We talked about our kids, our families, our worries, our everyday lives. Most of all we laughed. We found a way to smile and uplift each other no matter what latest crisis surrounded us.
When job changes made keeping in touch a challenge, we still maintained contact, even if only by email. We would plan ahead for coffee or lunch to be sure we had time to catch up with whatever we had missed since our last visit.
I considered him one of my “front row” friends. This is saying a lot because very few ever make it to my front row. To me he was the equivalent of myself. He treated me with kindness and caring, with not a mean bone in his body. I felt he had a truly good heart. Not so easy to find.
For reasons I still don’t know or can imagine, he disappeared. Poof! Gone! He stopped returning emails, phone calls, and any gesture of friendship. I told myself it must be a family crisis possibly or maybe an illness. I had no idea.
I began to wonder if I had done something to offend him. Did I hurt his feelings somehow? Without his input, my mind went to all possibilities. Such as, could I have been wrong about him? Did I see the friendship as more then he did? Did I feel the friendship deeper the he? What did I do to drive him away?
Years went by with nothing but silence from him. I assumed the friendship had ended for reasons I would never know.
Almost a year ago this October, my cell phone rang with a number I didn’t recognize. I was so shocked at hearing his voice I couldn’t think of anything to say. We were each in the middle of health issues, mine with my mother and he with himself.
We slowly began talking on the phone with maybe a text or two. Then we had coffee. It was as if no time had gone by at all. It seemed we picked up right where we left off. The laughter returned in full force. I realized how much I had missed him and I didn’t want him to disappear again. I had missed him more then I thought.
We got together for talks, exchanged texts, met for coffee and just hung out while doing errands. This went on for weeks, then months. Around Christmas, I started to notice a change. A change in my feelings. A change in his actions. When I asked if it was just me or were things changing between us? His response was that is wasn’t just me. He felt it too.
Things progressed slowly. We didn’t cross the line he didn’t want to cross. My feelings grew deeper and deeper. He said he felt the same things I felt. We weren’t sure what the future held but we hoped and believed we would walk that road together.
Months passed as we got to know each other on a deeper level then in the past.
Around late May, something started to change.
I started to notice slight changes at first. Broken promises. Breakfast get together where he never showed, not even bothered to call with a reason. He seems to step back from being the friend I thought I knew.
The biggest shock to me was my birthday. He knew I was struggling with it and it was a very tough day for me. He promised to come to my party. He didn’t. Not even a phone call with an excuse. He didn’t even return my daughter’s calls asking where he was. The hurt I felt from him that day felt very deliberate. He chose not to come for a reason only he knows. He had to know how deeply it would affect me. It was as if on some level he was being mean on purpose. A way of punishing me? A way of pushing me away?
After that, he withdrew even farther. His action became almost cruel. Cruel is a word I never thought in my wildest dreams I would use where he is concerned. His favorite word to me became NO. No to coffee. No to breakfast. No to escorting me to daughter’s wedding. I had asked him as a friend. Someone I could laugh with and talk to through out the event. NO.
His texts are few and far between. Coffee has been once in the last month or so. No calls.
I am left to try to figure out what happened. If he didn’t care for me, why didn’t he just tell me? I can handle the truth much better then this treatment. Was I not the kind of friend I thought I was? Was I not caring and kind enough? What did I do?
This has left me feeling vulnerable. Unwanted. Unlovable. Like a bad friend. Like a bad lover, even though we weren’t. This has been a blow to my self-esteem. It has been a long long time since I let anyone get this close to me. Did I misunderstand his words and actions in the beginning? Did I misread the signs he gave me?
I tried to love him. I tried to be kind to him. I tried to be the ‘safe place’ he hasn’t felt in years. Was I too nice? Was I too stupid? Did I come on too strong? Was I too open? I tried to always be available to listen to him, even when he stopped listening to me, even when he seemed to stop caring.
This has all been a lesson. A tough lesson. A lesson that I have not figured out yet. A lesson that is trying to teach me something that I can’t yet see. A lesson that I just don’t understand. His actions that I just don’t understand.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
turning 50 sucks!
It's true, turning 50 sucks!
For months leading up to my 50th birthday, I was embracing it. Had a positive attitude about the whole thing. Man, did that change.
About 2 weeks before the "big day", my point of view began to change. I began to ask myself - what the hell do I have to show for being on this earth for 50 yrs? Any answer I came up with seemed lame.
I admit there were a lot of changes taking place at the time, big changes. At least to me they seemed huge.
My only child was getting married and moving to her own place, which meant I would be moving also and living alone.
I never imagined my life being like this at this age. Here I am a 50 yr old pre-menopausal woman living alone with cats. OMG! I have become one of "those" women.
I went into therapy after turning 40 because I was having a crisis of needing to deal with childhood crap that I had tried to push down and pretend never happened.
So I assumed that after 10 yrs of therapy, I would be healthy enough, emotionally and mentally, to be in a loving committed relationship. WRONG!
I must have done something right because my daughter found a wonderful guy and had enough sense to realize it at her young age. She realized that what she had with him was the best she could ever find. Thank god for that.
So my question to myself was - if I raised a child who is able to find a wonderful relationship...why can't I do it for myself?
What the hell is wrong with me? Am I so defective? Am I so unlovable?
Statistically - I am a 50yr old over-weight woman...therefor my chances of finding a mate are extremely low.
People tell me "it will happen" . . .oh yea? I have been divorced for almost 20 yrs...gee still waiting.
I thought that after doing all the work in therapy on myself to grow and be a better person would result in being healthy enough to find and maintain a relationship. That didn't happen.
There is no answer. There is no solution. It just is the reality of the situation.
For months leading up to my 50th birthday, I was embracing it. Had a positive attitude about the whole thing. Man, did that change.
About 2 weeks before the "big day", my point of view began to change. I began to ask myself - what the hell do I have to show for being on this earth for 50 yrs? Any answer I came up with seemed lame.
I admit there were a lot of changes taking place at the time, big changes. At least to me they seemed huge.
My only child was getting married and moving to her own place, which meant I would be moving also and living alone.
I never imagined my life being like this at this age. Here I am a 50 yr old pre-menopausal woman living alone with cats. OMG! I have become one of "those" women.
I went into therapy after turning 40 because I was having a crisis of needing to deal with childhood crap that I had tried to push down and pretend never happened.
So I assumed that after 10 yrs of therapy, I would be healthy enough, emotionally and mentally, to be in a loving committed relationship. WRONG!
I must have done something right because my daughter found a wonderful guy and had enough sense to realize it at her young age. She realized that what she had with him was the best she could ever find. Thank god for that.
So my question to myself was - if I raised a child who is able to find a wonderful relationship...why can't I do it for myself?
What the hell is wrong with me? Am I so defective? Am I so unlovable?
Statistically - I am a 50yr old over-weight woman...therefor my chances of finding a mate are extremely low.
People tell me "it will happen" . . .oh yea? I have been divorced for almost 20 yrs...gee still waiting.
I thought that after doing all the work in therapy on myself to grow and be a better person would result in being healthy enough to find and maintain a relationship. That didn't happen.
There is no answer. There is no solution. It just is the reality of the situation.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
TURNING FORTY
Forty was a wall I hit at full speed while looking in another direction. I was mad at the world when forty ambushed me. Irritable and cranky became my favorite moods. My normal smile and “good morning” became more of a grunt.
I decided to go to the Employee Assistance Program at work. I thought a couple hours of venting from me, with encouraging words from a therapist, and I would be good as new. Off I went with referral in hand to see a counselor named Kathy. She was ready, willing, and able to help me with my turning forty sucks attitude.
With Kathy’s help, I was able to figure out what was bothering me. The age of forty had significance in my past. Forty was my mother’s age when she remarried. Our new family was agreeable for a short time. However, things are not always as they seem. My stepfather, John, began to sexually abuse me. I lived in a constant state of fear and dread of him. In my ten-year-old mind, I did not know what to do. It never occurred to me to tell anyone.
One night my mother caught him coming out of my room. I heard muffled voices in the hall. Mother came in to my room and stood there showing no emotion what so ever. She asked a few pointed questions and left. I was a scared and confused little girl. By her actions, I thought I must have done something wrong. It was never mentioned again. The abuse stopped.
My parents continued as if nothing had ever happened. They slept in the same bed, she cooked his meals, and they stayed together. She kept her “meal ticket” and went on to have two children with him, thus securing her position even more.
I tried to follow their example and pretend everything was fine. It was not. Inside I felt like I must have done something wrong, something to cause this. Over the next thirty years, I tried to be a perfect daughter. Always hoping she might acknowledge and love me.
My catalyst came when I turned forty. Now I was the same age she was when John abused me. As a forty-year-old mother with a daughter of my own, I cannot comprehend why a mother would react the way she did. I could never let a man harm my child and get away with it.
Thirty years of anger, resentment, and bile found its way to the surface. It could not be pushed down any longer. This woman chose to stay with a man who molested her daughter. Did she ever give any thought to the damage it caused? For the first time, I took a long hard look at my life. I decided I did not want the next forty years to be like the first forty. I didn’t want to be the scared child hiding in the corner any longer. That decision required me to dig down deep into my soul to start making some very difficult yet freeing changes. One issue I had to face was the fact that I could not change anyone. People make their own choices. That’s life.
I have a poem with a line that reads, “If you cannot change the people around you, then change the people you are around.” Some people may not be good for us, even if they are family. Sadly, they probably never will be. I care about my mother, but from a distance.
Facing inner demons and making changes is enormously difficult yet empowering. My life is better now that I hit the wall called forty. It took turning 40 to discover how strong I truly am.
(Until I hit the wall called "50", but that's another blog)
Forty was a wall I hit at full speed while looking in another direction. I was mad at the world when forty ambushed me. Irritable and cranky became my favorite moods. My normal smile and “good morning” became more of a grunt.
I decided to go to the Employee Assistance Program at work. I thought a couple hours of venting from me, with encouraging words from a therapist, and I would be good as new. Off I went with referral in hand to see a counselor named Kathy. She was ready, willing, and able to help me with my turning forty sucks attitude.
With Kathy’s help, I was able to figure out what was bothering me. The age of forty had significance in my past. Forty was my mother’s age when she remarried. Our new family was agreeable for a short time. However, things are not always as they seem. My stepfather, John, began to sexually abuse me. I lived in a constant state of fear and dread of him. In my ten-year-old mind, I did not know what to do. It never occurred to me to tell anyone.
One night my mother caught him coming out of my room. I heard muffled voices in the hall. Mother came in to my room and stood there showing no emotion what so ever. She asked a few pointed questions and left. I was a scared and confused little girl. By her actions, I thought I must have done something wrong. It was never mentioned again. The abuse stopped.
My parents continued as if nothing had ever happened. They slept in the same bed, she cooked his meals, and they stayed together. She kept her “meal ticket” and went on to have two children with him, thus securing her position even more.
I tried to follow their example and pretend everything was fine. It was not. Inside I felt like I must have done something wrong, something to cause this. Over the next thirty years, I tried to be a perfect daughter. Always hoping she might acknowledge and love me.
My catalyst came when I turned forty. Now I was the same age she was when John abused me. As a forty-year-old mother with a daughter of my own, I cannot comprehend why a mother would react the way she did. I could never let a man harm my child and get away with it.
Thirty years of anger, resentment, and bile found its way to the surface. It could not be pushed down any longer. This woman chose to stay with a man who molested her daughter. Did she ever give any thought to the damage it caused? For the first time, I took a long hard look at my life. I decided I did not want the next forty years to be like the first forty. I didn’t want to be the scared child hiding in the corner any longer. That decision required me to dig down deep into my soul to start making some very difficult yet freeing changes. One issue I had to face was the fact that I could not change anyone. People make their own choices. That’s life.
I have a poem with a line that reads, “If you cannot change the people around you, then change the people you are around.” Some people may not be good for us, even if they are family. Sadly, they probably never will be. I care about my mother, but from a distance.
Facing inner demons and making changes is enormously difficult yet empowering. My life is better now that I hit the wall called forty. It took turning 40 to discover how strong I truly am.
(Until I hit the wall called "50", but that's another blog)
Wedding Day - public reality and private reality
My Public Reality: Wedding Day
The sun came out as we all entered the church. What a lovely day it turned out to be. The flowers, ribbons and bows were beautifully arranged around the sanctuary. It was a great day for a wedding. True, the couple hadn’t dated long but they seem so in love. Both had experienced many things and were old enough to know they were ready to settle down.
The bride appeared at the doorway, looking beautiful. The dress and veil seemed to give her a luminous glow. She must be so excited and anxious, but it doesn’t show. It was a lovely ceremony, followed by a wonderful celebration. The couple was never out of each others reach, through the dinner, cake cutting, hugging and well wishing. The bride’s smile never faded. It must be the happiest day of her life. The newlyweds finally found each other and with a little luck, they would live happily ever after.
My Private Reality: Wedding Day
It started out as a rainy September morning. Months of planning, preparations and arrangements were all in place. It was my “wedding day.”
I was 26 years old, not exactly a young and foolish girl rushing into something. No, I was 26, with old loves and relationships behind me. How did I end up on a run-away freight train that was barreling out of control? Why didn’t I have the guts or the backbone to put the brakes on and stop it?
My fiancé pressured me to move the date closer and closer until I gave in. Looking back, I can’t help but wonder if he feared I would find the strength to walk away and out of his control, if we waited too long. Keeping me busy, without much time to analyze may have been his reason, I can’t say for sure. Can’t put all the blame there though. There is the issue with my mother. With two older sisters who were married and had given her a few grandchildren by the time they were my age I was starting to look like an old maid to her. She seldom missed an opportunity to let me know her feelings on that subject.
In all honesty, the choices were mine and no one else to make. Yes, I could have called it off, sent everyone home, returned the gifts, and gave up the money for the dinner, photographers and all the rest, but I didn’t. My wedding party, family and friends probably would have forgiven me in time, for the expenses they had incurred from clothing to shoes to hairdressing, and whatever else they would add to the list.
We’ll never know. The story didn’t happen that way. That morning I got up like a good little girl and made myself into the “blushing bride”. I appeared at the door of the church as planned and began my slow march toward the alter. With each step, I am ashamed to say I knew in my heart it was a mistake to marry this man. Knowing that I couldn’t and wouldn’t call it off, I resolved then and there to make it work. I would be the best wife and partner I could be. This was my road to walk and see through forever, no matter what difficulties may come.
I wasn’t sure what a good marriage was, but I vowed to do everything in my power to make it one. Maybe with my determination and a little luck, we could live happily ever after.
We didn't.
The sun came out as we all entered the church. What a lovely day it turned out to be. The flowers, ribbons and bows were beautifully arranged around the sanctuary. It was a great day for a wedding. True, the couple hadn’t dated long but they seem so in love. Both had experienced many things and were old enough to know they were ready to settle down.
The bride appeared at the doorway, looking beautiful. The dress and veil seemed to give her a luminous glow. She must be so excited and anxious, but it doesn’t show. It was a lovely ceremony, followed by a wonderful celebration. The couple was never out of each others reach, through the dinner, cake cutting, hugging and well wishing. The bride’s smile never faded. It must be the happiest day of her life. The newlyweds finally found each other and with a little luck, they would live happily ever after.
My Private Reality: Wedding Day
It started out as a rainy September morning. Months of planning, preparations and arrangements were all in place. It was my “wedding day.”
I was 26 years old, not exactly a young and foolish girl rushing into something. No, I was 26, with old loves and relationships behind me. How did I end up on a run-away freight train that was barreling out of control? Why didn’t I have the guts or the backbone to put the brakes on and stop it?
My fiancé pressured me to move the date closer and closer until I gave in. Looking back, I can’t help but wonder if he feared I would find the strength to walk away and out of his control, if we waited too long. Keeping me busy, without much time to analyze may have been his reason, I can’t say for sure. Can’t put all the blame there though. There is the issue with my mother. With two older sisters who were married and had given her a few grandchildren by the time they were my age I was starting to look like an old maid to her. She seldom missed an opportunity to let me know her feelings on that subject.
In all honesty, the choices were mine and no one else to make. Yes, I could have called it off, sent everyone home, returned the gifts, and gave up the money for the dinner, photographers and all the rest, but I didn’t. My wedding party, family and friends probably would have forgiven me in time, for the expenses they had incurred from clothing to shoes to hairdressing, and whatever else they would add to the list.
We’ll never know. The story didn’t happen that way. That morning I got up like a good little girl and made myself into the “blushing bride”. I appeared at the door of the church as planned and began my slow march toward the alter. With each step, I am ashamed to say I knew in my heart it was a mistake to marry this man. Knowing that I couldn’t and wouldn’t call it off, I resolved then and there to make it work. I would be the best wife and partner I could be. This was my road to walk and see through forever, no matter what difficulties may come.
I wasn’t sure what a good marriage was, but I vowed to do everything in my power to make it one. Maybe with my determination and a little luck, we could live happily ever after.
We didn't.
I'm beautiful dammit
favorite line from a song
“I’m Beautiful”
Bette Midler
Ain’t this my world - I know I can do it - People always ask me - Miss M, how did you get so far (on so little)? - Well, I woke up one morning, flossed my teeth and decided- “Damn, I’m fierce!” (You look good!) - You can be just like me (a goddess!!)
Don’t just pussy foot around and sit on your assets - Unleash your ferocity upon unsuspecting world - Rise up and repeat after me: “I’m beautiful, dammit!!!”
“Ain’t this our sun, ain’t this our moon, ain’t this our world, to be who we choose!!!
I’m not too short, I’m not too tall, I’m not too big, I’m not too small, I’m not too white, I’m not too black, I’m not too this, I’m not too that!! I’m Beautiful Dammit!!!”
This song helps me realize that it’s OK if we are all different. Being big, small, white, black, short or tall just makes us unique. I struggle with feeling self-conscience because of my size. I’m a large woman, in a world, especially at college, filled with young skinny girls.
When I started college, in my 40's, I worried I couldn’t fit in the desks when I got there (I do), but I agonized over it for days before classes started.
Bette Midler’s song helps me feel like it’s ok to stand up and say “I’m beautiful”, even if some others only see my size and not my goodness. (or my goddess-ness). And some days, I need all the help I can get!
It’s not easy to find clothes that fit and look good, but it can be done. Even when girls showing off their tummies and perky boobs surround me, I try to accept myself and work on my attitude. Songs like this help me when my self–esteem slips.
I used to be thin a long time ago. My outside have changed dramatically but on the inside I am still “me”. Having been on both sides of thin and big has helped me be more open to everyone. I try to look at people as themselves, not just as "eye candy", but the whole person. We are surrounded by wonderful people...we just forget to look in them not just at them.
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