The inspiration of family

This weekend was all about family. Thanksgiving we had the entire family together, Friday we were together again for the afternoon and dinner and then again on Saturday morning for brunch. That is a lot of togetherness and you know what? I love it. I love spending time with my family.

The biggest thing my family does for me – they make me want to be a better woman. While my brothers pick on me for choices I’ve made I know its only because they want better for me. In the romance department, in the job department, in life in general. I have settled for less than I deserve for so long and they want better for me.

When we sit around and have conversation, it’s intelligent conversation. I forget how much that is lacking in my daily life. I don’t have anyone to discuss the market with, or politics with, or anything of any depth. I miss that. I love my friends and wouldn’t trade them from the world but I miss intelligent conversation in my daily life.

I am the only one in my family that doesn’t have a bachelor’s degree and several have been to grad school. Most of them have good jobs, jobs they enjoy, jobs that challenge them. I am the only one who is divorced and the “married ins” are all great and a wonderful addition to our family. I cannot imagine any of the men I’ve dated being able to sit at our table and carry a conversation with my family.

But not one member of my family looks down on me. Not one member of my family spurns me for the bad choices I’ve made. They love me unconditionally. And they make me want better for myself. They make me want to finish my bachelor’s and get a job that challenges me and find a man of great character and work harder and expect more. They inspire me. And this weekend I am thankful for them.

On the road again

Since my split with ex I have traveled north for Thanksgiving. Two years ago the kids and I visited my grandmother, with most of the rest of my family. Last year it was just me and I spent some time with my brother in Boston before heading out to my grandmother’s house for the actual holiday.

So I suppose this is becoming a tradition for me.

To be honest I am pretty glad to be traveling. I just reach this point where I have to get out of town, I begin to suffocate in my small town. My escape to Boston could not be more timely.

First there is the long drive, about 11 hours. To some that may seem daunting. But to me it’s freeing. Nothing but me, the open road, my music and my thoughts. Oh and the kids but they are pretty used to road trips and are pros at packing a bag with stuff to keep themselves occupied.

Second there is the visit with family. I get to see my brothers, who I miss immensely. Plus I get to see my cousins and I love my cousins. Two of my cousins had babies this year, my aunt became a grandmother for the first time and got two within 4 months – she was beside herself this summer!!

Third there is my baby cousin. She is 17 but still we are incredibly close. We are going to go see New Moon.

Fourth there is the memory of my grandfather. He has been gone three and half years now and I miss him. Somehow standing in his home brings him closer, his memory closer.

I’m sure there are more reasons but you get the point. Tomorrow I will be in the land of the Red Sox! Just thinking about it makes the breathing easier.

I could.

It had been just more than a month since I had seen Bobby. I missed him.

So I sent the text message, “are you busy?” He responded immediately. I wanted so badly to see him but seeing him only makes things harder. An hour later, after two more text messages from him, I responded. He wasn’t home but he told me where to find the spare key. When he got home he started talking.

He has made changes in his life. Big ones. Positive ones. Changes I thought he would never make. And we talked about the changes and what they mean for us. Right now, nothing. We still cannot be together. He needs the changes to stick and I have to know the changes are real.

Finally I stood to go but he held on. And I couldn’t let go. Later that night when I rolled over to watch him sleep one thought overwhelmed me – “I could love you, if you let me.”

It has been three days since I walked out his door. Three days I have spent in tears. I miss him. That doesn’t change. I want to see him. That doesn’t change. I cannot be with him. This time I have hope, that may change.

Today my friend asked “do you love him?”

No. But I could.

I could.

And I’m not sure what scares me more, life with him or life without him.

The music lives on

Awhile ago I remarked that I actually did like bluegrass music. Keith turned me on to this great band, The Gourds.

 

 

The problem is, now each time this song comes up in rotation on my iPod it makes me think of him. It wasn’t our song, we were never really together. Things didn’t work out between us, I’m not heartbroken when I think of him. The thing is it reminds me of the mistake, the mistake I take full responsiblity for, that wasn’t his fault. My mistake, that thinking of him reminds me off!

 

I like the song. I don’t like thinking of him.

 

What do I do? Dump the song? Keep it in rotation so that eventually it will no longer remind me of him? What do you do internet, when the relationship is over but the songs live on?

Strength and weakness

One of the biggest things I worked on in therapy was cognitive reality. Basically the person I was in my head didn’t match my actions.

I would constantly say, “I’m weak.” And he would respond, “Do you get out of bed every morning? Go to work? Take care of your kids?” I did but I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay in bed, I wanted to pull the covers over my head and drown in my pain. I wanted to start drinking in the morning and forget all my cares by noon. I wanted to give in to the depression that perpetually lurked in the shadows. My therapist would always ask, “But what do you DO?”

The reality was – no matter what I wanted to do – I still got out of bed in the morning. I didn’t just pull the covers over my head, I didn’t start drinking, I kept struggling against the current that threatened to pull me under. The me in my head didn’t match the me in reality.

These days I’m not questioning my strength, I question who I really am. I spent ten years in an unhealthy marriage, the real me got lost. For two years I’ve been looking for her.

Since leaving my ex I have come to depend on my friends. I only have a few friends that survived my marriage. Some friendships I lost I have rekindled. And I have made new friends. Since my divorce I have come back out of my shell.

I love my friends but I live in constant fear that they will discover the “real me”, that I’m not really the person I’m “pretending” to be. Back to that cognitive reality thing, the person I really am is the person who holds her friends hair back while she’s puking. I really am the girl who works hard and gets good grades. I really am the mother who helps her kids with homework and volunteers up at school. It doesn’t matter that sometimes the still small voices in my head tell me I’m a fake, what matters is what I’m really doing.

What I have been doing is working on this post for the last week, I have written and rewritten. edited and deleted. Then this morning I read this post from my friend Melanie. And what I began to ask myself was, where do my still small voices come from. Where does this belief that I am a fake come from? The answer made me cry.

Ex. I loved him but he judged me unlovable and walked away. In reality I know that him leaving was him, not me. In reality I am so much better off without him. But sometimes, in my head I ask myself “why didn’t he love me?” And with that recognition I was forced to face the cognitive reality.

That just because I’m scared on the inside I still get out on the dance floor. I’m not that girl who sits in the corner, I’m the one out on the dance floor. I’m am lovable. I am THAT girl.