Don't Shut Out the Light

Throughout this entire journey, something has been nagging me, and I realize now that I couldn’t get over the emotions and struggles of the divorce because I was working on a puzzle with missing pieces, and I knew they were missing but I thought that I could complete it with my imagination and ingenuity. Yet, it doesn’t work that way. I kept praying that God would guide me along the path, yet I kept coming full circle to the same missing puzzle piece. It has been nearly two years and I keep struggling through it again and again. Last night, I prayed and said, “I’m here again. Why can’t I get through the first betrayal?” Why was that nagging me? The answer I heard this morning is that I was going through it again and again because I never got beyond it – because I haven’t allowed it to teach me what I didn’t want to learn.

Before me, today, is the missing puzzle piece and it is the root of the problems in my marriage. Over four years ago, I sat nine months pregnant with my second child, and without my knowledge, the foundation of my marriage was crumbling. And I was made aware of this truth four days before Christmas. A gift? Perhaps. I think it is fitting that I learned of this information before the end of 2008. It gives me hope that in 2009, it is certain that I will begin fresh.

It is strange to know that I have been wasting time fighting for a lie, blinding myself with a shield of false compassion, failing to recognize problems. And we all know that failing to recognize the problems – the root, the truth – leaves the door open for tragedies. It’s good to know the truth, and it doesn’t hurt as much either given that I’ve had over four years to prepare for what I knew was true in my heart all along. It’s kind of sad, but I realize that in order to have faith in my own path, I needn’t prove that someone else’s path is wrong. It’s just different, but you know, I feel like I’ve come home in a way. I have forged a relationship with my heart, and I trust it now. When I am silent and listening, my heart tells me the truth.

Yet when my heart is silent with the truth and I am in need of inspiration, I read the lips of my neighbors, friends and strangers to discover what my guardian angel is trying to tell me. They are telling me that I cannot grow alone. They are telling me that I need to make room on this path for them so that we can move forward together, and they can veer off onto their own path when the timing is right.

I’ve made mistakes. I am not perfect. But, I was a wife and I took it seriously – perhaps too seriously? Perhaps. Yet, in all this time of self-discovery, I have come to know a few things. I will never lose hope of being better than I am. I will spend many days talking to my heart. I will not respond to insults or lies because they do nothing for me. I will look at my mistakes as a beacon for further growth.

It’s difficult to allow the truth into my mind because I have fought it for so long, and it is difficult not to feel sadness and complete disappointment.

I am reading a book/”Manual” by Paulo Coelho and he is such a wise man, sharing his wisdom as a Warrior of the Light. In it, he writes the following:

A Warrior of the Light always keeps his heart free of any feelings of hatred.

When he goes into battle he remembers what Christ said, “Love your enemies.” And he obeys.

But he knows that the act of forgiveness does not mean that he must accept everything: a Warrior cannot bow his head, for if he did he would lose sight of the horizon of his dreams.

He accepts that his opponents are there to test his valor, his persistence, and his ability to make decisions. They force him to fight for his dreams.

It is the experience of battle that strengthens the Warrior of the Light.

I think that trapping the demons inside is tragic. The outcome is certain darkness of the soul, and in time, it takes the light out of one's eyes. Without that light, every step is mis-step because it's impossible to see the path before you, and at some point, an obstacle or a big rut, will take you down.

It takes courage to face the truth.

I have chosen to keep the light on, so that my own worst enemy doesn't come unexpectedly.

Don't Kill the Bird

I am still working on the mental list of New Year's Resolutions. Every time I think about what I'd like to accomplish this year, I can think of nothing beyond the moment. I guess that's pretty healthy, but I think that it probably has something to do with the fact that I just don't want to start blowing air into the hope balloon only to have it popped by the poking needle of the shit sandwich that life sometimes feeds us.

Yet, isn't that inviting failure into my life?

If I continually try to protect myself from the downs in life, I am sure to miss the opportunities for the ups. I'm not game for that right now because I'm a believer... in miracles, in people, in goodness. If I become intimidated by silence, indifference or rejection, haven't I failed, even though I have chosen do nothing?

Tori Amos sings a song and there is one line that plays over and over in my head everytime I think of making my list of New Year's Resolutions: "There's just an empty cage if you kill the bird." It seems to be a reminder to me that if I neglect moving forward with my dreams in order to thwart pain, then my heart is dead, like the bird and I am simply left with an empty cage. Do I defend this empty cage? Do I keep it unlocked and hope that the bird returns when the shit sandwich has been handed over to someone else?

I'm not quite ready to make that list, but I will indeed make it. I just need to strengthen my wings a bit more so that when I am ready, I can fly away from the cage, alive, and return to it as a resting place, as a spot to relax and refuel between conquests.

Carry in Your Memory...

For the first time in months, I have been afforded the opportunity to have such clarity in my mind that I can indulge in dreaming, fantasizing, and envisioning triumphs. I have learned that thoughts mark the path and that every step forward is another step away from the pain of the past, an opportunity to "concentrate on the joy of having passed yet another of life's tests."(Chico Xavier) I think, now, it's most important to concentrate on the good that comes out of difficult times - a renewed confidence, an unmoving strength, and a tolerance for the little dramas that used to shake the very core.

It is blizzarding in Buffalo right now. The air is so, so cold and the wind is blowing hard across the familiar hill on which my parents' house rests - the house I grew up in with four brothers, one sister and usually a couple of dogs. It is a lot easier to weather the storm outside when the warmth of memories and the stability of family protect me. It's a lot easier to weather the storm inside too.

It is getting close to the end of yet another year. This was a year of tests and truths and discipline and tears and confusion. Yet, I am emerging from this long period of darkness. Here's the ironic part, I am grateful for it. I am grateful for it... yes, the divorce - I am grateful for it because after all this time of wanting to keep my marriage and fighting it's end, I suffered. I suffered through the illusions, the thoughts of reconciliation and like Sara Bareill sings in one of her most excellent songs, "defending good intentions if he fails." I put on my armor to defend an untruth.

In the stillness of this winter day, I was able to shed the armor and look at it clearly. I did what I always do when I have a few extra minutes without the kids in the car, I drove past my parents' house and into the hills of my small town. I rode familiar hills, looked at familiar houses and let the past kind of slip under my skin - memories of good days that have passed. Because this is life, I am sure I had very difficult moments as I grew up. I remember mourning the loss of a boyfriend as I drove those hills; I remember worrying about getting enough financial aid for law school; and I worried about the imperfections of my family on these roads. Yet, as I drove today, my thoughts were void of those worries - the past made me who I am today. I like who I am today. I like who I have become, and I anticipate the dark valleys and sharp peaks with curiosity and courage. That is something I never would have realized before this divorce. How can I not be happy? How can I not be excited about my future? How could I have allowed the loss of those moments of fantasizing and daydreaming - they were available for me this whole time!

Tony taught me a lesson about fear of the future a couple days ago. He has been (literally!) bouncing off the walls for weeks now because of the excitement of seeing his cousins in Buffalo and of course, Santa Claus coming to town. On Thursday, he was jumping around, screaming at the top of his lungs. I gave him two warnings to no avail. I finally pulled out the topper of all lines during this Christmas season. I said, "Tony, Santa Claus is watching you right now!" You know what he did? He raised his arms above his head, jumped up and down and screamed in the loudest voice, "I want lots of presents! Bring me lots of presents!"

Even in the face of sure reprimand and suffering from Santa, he knew what he wanted and made it known. He knows more about himself than I ever did.

Until now.

If you're gonna walk... walk tall.

I had a bad day today. (I know, "a day is a day" but today was one of those days). Every few days it seems that there is something or someone who has to interrupt my reasonably happy existence and muddy the waters. Work is busy these days; the kids have me running around like crazy; but those two things are only 10% of the cause of stress in my life. I guess one can imagine where the other 90% comes in. But alas, I've learned that the sadness/pain/stress, etc. is just a wave and I have to jump up on the board, find my balance and ride it into shore. I'd say 95% of the time, I can ride it into shore just by picking up the kids from school, cooking dinner and sitting down to eat with them. Usually, that is all it takes. But today was different for some reason. I couldn't let go of the thoughts that were stressing me out. The anxiety was winning. After dinner, I sent the kids into their playroom to play "school" while I tried to let it go while cleaning up the dishes and making lunches. I was stressing but I knew I couldn't control how to decompress, so I had to let it go! I cleaned the dishes and started on the lunches... then Tony came into the kitchen and said, "I want to hear the guitar and piano." I had no idea what he was talking about until he said, "Bruce, Mommy." (Like, "well, duh!")

"You wanna hear Bruce?" I asked and he nodded.

My 3 year old son wants to hear Bruce? My 3 year old son wants to hear Bruce!!!

I skipped over to the stereo, put on "Rosalita" at full volume and picked him up to dance. We danced and laughed. When it was over, he said, "Again!" So I put it back on and started singing. The dogs got in on the action, jumping around and barking, Paige came in from coloring in the other room, grabbed Tony's hand and started spinning around. I belted out the words:

"Windows are for cheaters,
chimneys for the poor,
closets are for hangers,
winners use the door!"

And it hit me. My bad day was over. I rode the wave into the shore. And rather than use the window, climb through the chimney or hide in the closet until it passed, I used the door.

People escape by drinking - I've done it. I used to make love to the Grey Goose martini an awful lot after the kids went to bed and my husband got on his computer or zoned out in front of the TV. People escape by sleeping - I've been there. Sometimes the sadness is the best sleep aid around. People escape by cutting off friends and hiding - I've done it. It just makes the booze and the sleeping the only other options. And friends, family - they're the answer most of the time. Tonight, tonight was about me, and the kids, and the dogs, dancing. And it was about my best friend Bruce. "Rosalita, jump a little higher! Rosalita come put out my fire!"

Seeking Synchronicity

Early on in my separation, I felt as though all the pieces of my life were synchronized. For example, my college roommates and I planned a two-day trip to the beach. We hadn't seen each other for over ten years. Two of them backed out due to family responsibilities, and so it was just me and Jo. A week prior to our scheduled beach day, he left the house - we were officially separated. Rather than cancel, we went ahead as planned, and it had a profound healing affect on me. I met strangers at the beach bar and talked with them as though they were my oldest and dearest friends. Ironically, the six people I spoke with were of a different variety in terms of marriage. One was divorced, his sister was married but not happily, myself, my roommate, and another couple who had been happily married for nearly 30 years and they were marriage counselors for their church. I let loose on that day. I revealed everything about my marriage, I cried, and at end of the night, knowing I'd never see them again, we hugged and bid a warm farewell. It has been six months and I still send kind thoughts to all of them. And I think, no I know, that I will meet at least one of them again, and we will hug and catch up. I don't know when, but it will happen at time when they need me as I needed them.

Shortly after that trip, I received a phone call from my old boss asking if I'd like to help him out with some work. Sure. That led me into the job I have now. Then, people just started coming out of the woodwork - friends I didn't know were friends, and they started saying things that clicked. The homily at church was directed toward me, the sunshine was on me, and all the information I needed to initially accept the demise of my marriage came to me piece by piece. I went to talk with my Deacon and told him about this and he said it was a psychological theory by Jung called Synchronicity. I finally understand Sting's songs.

I am seeking synchronicity again because work, kids, personal life, church, friends and family are all compartmentalized now. I had to do that because I couldn't juggle all those things at once. But now, I am ready for the melody. I am in tune for the harmony and I want synchronicity.

I believe firmly that no two events are coincidences, although without the knowledge, I can't understand the causal relationship of some of them yet. The people you meet in your life, even if only briefly, are there for a reason.

I met a man on the airplane when I was traveling solo to be at my sister's side when she had her mastectomy. We started talking about the hospitals in Buffalo. I mentioned my nephew Jake and his surgeries done at Children's Hospital. And he asked, "Who was Jake's doctor?" When I answered, he started to cry and he said, "He performed surgery on my daughter and saved her life." I still think about that man. I was torn up on that airplane ride, and our common bond comforted me, and I would like to believe, comforted him. Coincidence?

A friend of mine had a similar situation. She wasn't sure if she wanted children. She sat next to an older woman who had three adult children and had just lost her spouse. And she told my friend that without her children, she would be lost. She told my friend in no uncertain terms to have children with her husband. My friend still talks about that woman as she holds two unbelievable happy babies on her lap. Coincidence?

Synchronicity, in a way. Imagine everything that happens in your life, synchronized like a beautiful symphony. I felt pieces of it for a while. I want it again. Perhaps it is just being open to finding meaning in everything. Perhaps it just happens. Perhaps I think too much?  I'll let you know when it happens again.

Who Are You?

I am thinking about my Aunt Carolyn tonight. She's in the hospital again, fighting with that sense of humor she has. My idol. Truly, the woman I admire and try to emulate - she's that great. I am also confused tonight. I cannot put my finger on the exact cause of my confusion, but it will come. As I write this, I know it will come.

I am doing well at work - making a name for myself, creating a reputation of honesty and accuracy. Yet, my manager told me that I needed to be a little more confident; that I over-analyzed things; and that I just need to step back and do the "Carrie" thing. I thought I had a handle on the Carrie thing!

I've always had a certain degree of insecurity, and I've always done things to prove, to others, that I was beyond those insecurities. Maybe that is what I am doing now, by writing this, by telling everyone I'm okay, by spewing words of hope... I think it's because I want to believe what I say. And I do believe it, but there is a little voice in my head that sometimes obliterates the uniqueness that is me just by throwing out "other" alternatives as to who I truly am.

I am not kidding myself here. If I want to be like my Aunt Carolyn, I truly have to step back and acknowledge the wisdom I am gaining; I have to do it in such a way that I am humble in that acknowledgement; and I have to keep my sense of humor (which, by the way, is finally, finally starting to re-emerge!)

I am amazed with the realization that being married can change a person... sometimes it is in a good way. In my case, I changed in an unfortunate way. I lost my "Carrie-ness". I gave in to things that meant something to me for the sake of keeping my marriage peaceful. You might ask: how? I didn't write! When I was in the 3rd grade I started a journal... I wrote in it through high school, college, law school, and when I moved to Maryland - creative writing, poetry, personal essays. When I got married... I stopped. I was done. I wrote only every once in a while. It was deemed unworthy - by him and ultimately by me. He didn't understand. I can't blame him for taking that away, after all, I was the one who stopped writing. There is a shame factor here - I am now ashamed that I stopped doing what was essentially one of the biggest parts of me. Why? I don't know. It just didn't seem so important so it "vanished right into the air..." By stopping it, I stopped part of myself. How many other men and women have done this? Why? If you like to write, or fish, or cook, or sing... why stop? Do it. It is part of who you are.

Now that I am back into it, I feel so much better. I still question myself. I still over-analyze my worth, but at least I have somewhere to go to when I need to vent. Again, this blog is about me... it is me. I've left nothing hidden, nothing guarded and the people who love me, love me despite my insecurities and revelations.

And that is awesome.

I don't know if I'll ever make it to "Aunt Carolyn" status, but I doubt that I'll ever stop trying. That goal: to be a woman with wisdom, character, a sense of humor and kindness... what a goal! She did it! She did it, and I love her for it. She once said a cliché to me that I had never heard (and it's a common one). She said, "a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." My hand is reaching, reaching for that bird. When I catch it, all the birds that are still in the bush won't even matter. My insecurities are my own, despite who set them in motion. I have to let them go; free them from myself because being confused about things, over-analyzing things, disregarding who I am and questioning who lives inside me, that's an obstacle in my way. An obstacle that will hinder my progress. One obstacle (of many) that I might have just avoided... just by writing again, by being who I am. And I am thinking that's Aunt Carolyn's secret. Be humble, be kind, be who you are.

I'll Miss You, Buddy

I was still dating my husband when I was allowed a snapshot of Sebastian that has stayed with me for over eight years. I was washing my car outside, soaping it up, rinsing it off. Sebastian was enjoying the sunshine as I cleaned, basically finding sticks and dropping them at my feet so that I could throw them, and he'd fetch, I'd throw, he'd fetch... he could have put in a full day with that activity. While I was scrubbing my wheels, he dropped the stick at my feet. I stood up, stretched and looked down at him. He stared in my eyes, looked down at the stick, back up at me and then down to the stick again and back up, beckoning me to pick it up. I smiled at him and let him do it a few more times, until he was practically begging me to pick the stick up and throw. I bent down, picked it up, poised my arm in the air to throw and then saw Sebastian. A dragon fly had landed on the tip of his nose. It was the first time and the last time I had ever seen a dog cross his eyes. He stared at the dragon fly on the tip of his nose for a good five seconds, not moving. When it finally flew away, Sebastian nodded his head toward the stick in my hand and we resumed play.

Sebastian was a premarital asset, belonging to my husband, and so along with the furniture, he was taken away from the family household today. He was his dog, but I was his mommy for over eight years. It's like mourning his death today because I know I'm not likely to ever see him again - he'll be 13 in November - and the stress from changing households cannot be good for him. But he's a premarital asset, so he goes. He'll always be my boy though.

I'll miss you, buddy.