Me: My oldest just left for college and it’s killing me. I don’t know what I’m going to do when my youngest leaves.
Her: Oh honey, you’ll do just fine. I’ll never forget the day my youngest moved out.
Me: What did you do?
Her: I came home from work, parked my car in the garage, took off my clothes, opened a beer and sat on the couch buck naked, because I could.
Me: What did your husband do?
Her: Grabbed himself a beer and helped me break in the couch.
BLUSH.
I sat there and stared at this women who is ten years my senior, in utter shock and frankly envious admiration.
I hear about marriages going south after the kids leave more than I do about getting to know each other again.
“According to data from the National Center for Health Statistics, the overall divorce rate declined by 1.4 percent between 1981 and 1991, the Arps said in their book, The Second Half of Marriage: Facing the Eight Challenges of the Empty-Nest Years. However, during those same years, the divorce rate grew 16% for couples married 30 years or more.” – citation Marriage Missions International
I’ll be honest you guys, I don’t want to be a statistic. I don’t have all of the answers. I may very well wake up single one day and if I do it won’t be without a fight. I believe some things are worth fighting for, marriage especially.
Our youngest has chosen to live at home and attend Jr College rather than move away so unless I want to pay for therapy on top of college tuition, breaking in the couch might not be an option just yet. I do, however, think it’s possible to learn how to date again.
I know all marriage seminars and books tell you to date while you still have kids. Seriously? Who has the time? Or the energy. My husband traveled almost constantly through out our marriage. He could have pursued music and chose to keep his corporate job instead. That was a huge sacrifice. He did so in order to provide a living and a home for us. I’m immensely grateful for that. While I regret greatly that we didn’t date like they tell you to in those marriage advice things, it is possible to re-learn how to connect. While we were raising kids, because he traveled, I made sure I took time out for myself when I could and I focused on exclusively female friendships.
I say exclusively and I mean it. No men. My reason for that was simple. Being home alone with children all day for days at a time can be lonely. So lonely in fact that the smelly homeless guy who smiles at me can start to look attractive. Every parenting book I ever read warned about that and they were right.
Can I be totally honest with you? I cannot begin to tell you the number of creepy guys who went out of their way to make sure I knew they were there for me if I needed them. Not nice guys, I’m talking the sidled up alongside me, give me a sideways hug so they could cop a feel rejects. Jeff used to like watching me untangle from these guys and run straight to him. Sorry if I seem blunt, but that happens to both men and women.
I will openly admit, refusing to allow men into my life while I was raising our kids might not have been the best tactic. I may have missed out on more than just learning how to set appropriate boundaries with them. (Something I do struggle with at 46.) and I may have missed out on some great growth opportunities so please don’t send me letters about how y’all had male and female friends and it never interfered with your marriage – if you did that’s great. I personally chose not to that’s all. For better or for worse, I can’t change that. The male friends I do have are friends we have together and they are great friends.
There you have it, two confessions, I don’t know how to be friends with men and I didn’t do a great job dating my husband while we were raising kids. We were busy and we were tired. We also knew that the day was coming when we’d wake up and think, “Who are you and what are you doing in my bed?” and so we started planning.
My plan was to sell our house in the suburbs, move to mid-town and go to concerts and such in River Parks like we did when we were dating in Chicago and I wanted to travel the world.
His plan was to buy a bigger boat and fish more.
We neither live in midtown nor own a big boat.
We needed to learn how to compromise.
Sometimes we do things he likes, like fishing or golf, and sometimes we do things I like such as concerts, or plays. One of the things I love best about our marriage is we make each other laugh and we put each other first.
Most of the time it works out. In June we saw Barry Manilow and he didn’t die and in July we saw James Taylor which was amazingly awesome. I’ve even started watching him play again on Saturday nights, something I gave up when the boys were in high school because I was just too busy. And he comes to watch me when I perform comedy. We support each others dreams.
Which brings me to a crucial point, developing myself as a woman so that I have something more substantial to lean upon than just his arm if you know what I mean is very important during this season of my life otherwise I run the risk of running away to find myself. Well that and boring him to tears. So I took up banjo, started riding a bike, and started comedy and acting. I’m becoming informed about politics, and music and world affairs. I became a Democrat which didn’t thrill him, but it does interest him. It’s a lot easier to date a man – or a woman for that matter – when you know who you are and can bring something to the table, otherwise the burden in on one person and nobody likes that.
Jeff and I will be celebrating 22 years of marriage this Saturday. Parts of it have been wonderful and parts of it have been hard. I come from a divorced family, full of fear and baggage as do a lot of people. We’ve had to work through our stuff together. I love hearing the compliments of how people perceive us, and yet I’m afraid we do at times give the wrong impression. Yes, we are happily married. Is it always happy? No. Sometimes it’s work. I need you to understand that – behind every happy marriage is a ton of work.
Don’t get me wrong, I adore this man however staying married is the hardest thing either of us have ever done in our lives. I don’t want to mislead anybody. In today’s age when people bail at the first sign of trouble we didn’t. We have a very real marriage. There are days where we drive each other to absolute distraction and there are days when we click on all six cylinders and we stick it out and we fight for each other. We think it’s worth it. While we do not have the money for a big celebration this month due to college bills, we’ll find something. And it will be fun.
So married readers: Do you date your spouse? Would you like to share your dating secrets with us?
People ride bikes for different reasons. Some like the fellowship. Some like being outdoors. Me? I want to live. It really is that simple.
Tiffany’s death last fall scared me. We’d grown up together back in Michigan. One day she was Facebooking about the most recent cuteness of her 5-year-old son and the next day she was gone. pulmonary Embolism. That’s not fair.
My mother is 71 and is dying from COPD. She has suffered from severe depression on and off for most of my life and hasn’t had a drink since Aug 12, 1977. I would do anything for her, we even offered to buy her a house so she could live near us and she turned me down. Her depression keeps her from truly seeing and receiving love and some days it’s hard. She has convinced herself she would be miserable here and that she would die within six months if she moved. I have no choice but to let her live her end of life as she sees best.
While I spent roughly 30 years in Alanon, Mom doesn’t have a recovery program and I wish she did. Maybe that’s why I like Anne Lammot so much. She and my mother are a lot alike, only Anne chose a different path. I get jealous sometimes when I read her books. I still read them because I hope they can help me find my path and stop trying to live everyone else’s.
Don’t even ask about my Dad. I feel responsible for him as well.
I started having chest pains last summer and was sent to a cardiologist. When the tests came back perfect (except for a slight murmur) we assessed that perhaps my issues were more on the emotional bend rather than physical. I finally fessed up to some of the stress I was feeling and told her what was on my plate. Her response was a very simple statement. “I’d smoke too.”
Not the answer I was looking for, but she was right Codependency can kill.
I’m one of those people who puts off dealing with things until I can get away from people for a few days and have a private melt down. Then I pull up my bootstraps and carry on as the song goes. I didn’t get to do that last summer. August was full of commitments and I kept telling myself that this would have to wait. I could cope for a while, I’ll deal with it later. As if later will somehow take the sting away.
I should have known I was in trouble when I went in for my annual check up. If my doctor had been any nicer I would have burst into tears on the spot. It’s hard to handle kindness when we aren’t being very kind to ourselves. I had a very difficult time hearing his kindness over the voices in my head and my own woundedness screaming “What do you want from me!”
A middle of the night trip to the ER with stomach pain that made childbirth feel like a paper cut and chest pains that made me throw up scared me enough to change.
I can’t fix the people I love. I can’t make their choices for them, nor do I need to make myself responsible for their choices. The serenity prayer tells me to accept the things I cannot change, change the things I can, and find the wisdom to know the difference.
Instead of buying a house for my Mom, I bought a bike for myself. That’s a good step in the right direction.
Instead of reading blogs on fixing other people, I read blogs written by people who are after the same things I am; Healthy living. Emotionally, Spiritually, and Physically. The link below is one such writer. He’s a recovering alcoholic and is open about it. He rides to live, just like I do. I hope it inspires you as much as it does me. Click on the link to read his story. Full Circle….
If nothing changes, nothing changes. Let it begin with me.
Ride.
Live.
We’ve all done crazy things for love. Some turn out great, some notsomuch. With Valentines Day right around the corner, I thought it would be fun to take a look at some crazy things we do for love. Are you in?
Have you ever met a man so beautiful that he takes your breath away?
I have.
He was single.
And straight.
And dreamy.
And straight.
And oblivious.
And did I say straight?
Steven sat next to me for three classes that semester in college. We were in the same accounting clubs and we also did runway modeling for the local mall. Unfortunately we’d fallen into the “buds” category, which today translates to “he’s just not into you.” I know that today, but I didn’t know that when I was 19. To say that I made a complete and total blithering idiot out of myself, bringing him coffee every morning, staring at the back of his head during class, sighing every time he spoke, would be an understatement. Yeh, I had it bad.
The thing about Steven is he was shy and he had no idea how dreamy he really was.
At least he didn’t seem to.
Valentines Day was just around the corner and I decided it was time to be bold.
You know what I did?
I took out an ad in the local paper.
Oh no she didn’t.
Oh yes, I did. I took out an ad with the only four French phrases I knew:
Steven D***** (oh wouldn’t you love to know his full name. Ain’t happening.)
Mon Cher
Mon Ami
Je T’aime e vous
Moi.
Give a girl props for courage.
Take away props for forgetting to sign the stupid thing.
He comes rushing into Econ 201 on cloud 9, waving this paper around, runs up to me – his female BFF and asks if I can read French. He wants to know what is says. Score! – except that, I get so flustered that I spill coffee over both of us. The teacher calls class to order and that is the end of that conversation. That’s okay, I’ll tell him at rehearsal.
Did I tell him at rehearsal?
Nope.
You know why not.
Because I heard the A-line (the diamond and fur girls) talk about how “some loser is all ga ga over Steve.”
Now, I’ve seen photos of me at 19 — uhm, I was cute. I just didn’t know it. You know? I was a size 6, which is death to a model. Diamond and Fur girls had to be a 4 or smaller. Even as a bulimic, I couldn’t get smaller than a six and I felt like a failure.
So.. I didn’t fess up that night either.
And you know what happened.
Mr Wonderful, encouraged by the anonymous note in the paper asked out Miss Blonde Size Two with the fake boobs.
She was a size 2 with at least a 36 C cup, of course they were fake.
And they live happily ever after.
So fearless readers, what is the stupidest thing you ever did in the name of love?
U2 Rocks, that’s all I can say.
1If I speak in the tongues[a] of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames,[b] but have not love, I gain nothing.
4Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
8Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. 11When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. 12Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
13And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love
I was going to post a blog today about my new resolutions, until I read Donald Miller’s Post on Living a Good Story. (You have got to read it, seriously. Awesome piece) No one is asking me to endorse it, I just happened to catch the link on Twitter today and thought WOW, this is so it! And that post is why I am changing how I look at both 2009 and 2010.
“When you do tell your story, don’t sound like the victim. If you do, you’ll sound like you’re whining. Just be truthful in telling your story and aim to discover that slice of humanity that others can relate to.” David Pierce, to me last summer, author of “Don’t Let Me Go.”
Stories can capture the soul or bore you stupid, kind of like my blog some days. I’m going through midlife puberty and my voice is changing. Some days I nail it, mostly I squeak. My “mom” days are coming to a close. It’s a scary season for me. I’m still needed, but not in the same way.
I do find it interesting , that my top two blog entries in 2009 were on Letting Go and Understanding our Identity in Christ, By: Cj Rapp. Both received hundreds of hits a piece and they were the most commonly searched topics.
I did not begin 2009 with a story in mind and yet looking back, those two pieces nail it. Letting Go of what holds me back and finding my identity in Christ is the story of 2009 at least for me. Christ loves me, not because of what I do or don’t do, but because I breath in and out. I can’t do a single thing to make Him love me less, or love me more than he does right now. WOW.
That was God’s gift to me last year. That knowing that I wanted so desperately in January. Remember my verse for the year? – Ephesians 3:17-19. “I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge – that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.”
I “get” it today.
My goals for 2009 were pretty vague – memorize 24 scripture verses, survive graduation and my son leaving for college, lose 60 lbs (didn’t happen) — I was also going to quit smoking, but I copped a resentment last summer and well, that didn’t happen either. — And yes, I am self destructive when I’m feeling resentful. Even so, stopping smoking is a requirement for the story I want to live in 2010.
I’m back at square one today. I’m throwing away my resoltions and I’m looking for the story of 2010. What story do I want to live? I’m not sure yet. That will take some thought.
I’m going to take the advice from a teacher again- my story for 2010won’t involve being a victim, no whining might take some work, and it will be truthful. Truthful to God, to my family, and to myself.
How about you? What story do you want to live in 2010? I’d love to hear from you.
EDITED TO ADD: _– a neurotic note to say How quickly I forget, — Donald Miller wrote Blue Like Jazz, one of my favorite books of all time – no wonder his piece on stories not resolutions spoke to me so well.
Read this guy.. I’m glad I found him again.. I feel a bookstore afternoon coming up.
If God could write a Valentine today, what would it look like? What would He say? Would it be flowers and prose? A card from Hallmark, or maybe a rose?
If God were to write a Valentine today, What would it look like? What would He say? Would it be candy or something as sweet? A box of dark chocolates? Now that would be neat.
But that doesn’t quite do it. Its not quite his style. No, He’d probably think and ponder a while. He’d keep it simple. And that would be best.
“Come home to me Valentine, and I’ll give you rest.”
My Dearest Valentine,
You were, and are still, my first true love, created for my pleasure. Your parents gave you a name at birth. I have my own name for you. I call you “Beloved”. Do you know? Do you remember? Or have you forgotten?
I called the heavens and the earth into being with my voice, yet I saved you for my hands to create. I am still creating, making you more and more into my image, even as you live and breathe. Can you feel my touch? Have you seen my fingerprints? Your name is carved into the palms of my hand. Nothing can snatch you away. Not even your sin. I knew you would fall and I created you anyway. I already had a plan worked out from the beginning of time, so that I might keep you by my side.
I came down to be with you. To eat, sleep, walk, dance, and touch you. I gave you my time, my love, and my life. Your time, your love, your life and your faith and more precious to me than silver or Gold. Do you weigh the cost? I did.
Did you see the sunshine I sent you today? I wanted to watch it shine off your hair and in your eyes. Did you feel the warmth? Did you hear the songbirds? I wrote that song just for you. Does my music fill your heart? Yours does mine. Oh, how I love to hear you sing. And that breeze? It’s me caressing your face like I did for Elijah. Did you notice me? Do you hear the leaves rustle in the trees? That’s my whisper. Can you hear me?
I can’t wait until you see what I have in store for you on Easter morning! Will you be there? Will you see me? Or will you miss it? Please be still beloved and know that I am God and that you are my first true love. Would only that I could be yours.
So tell me Beloved, will you be my Valentine?
Love,
God
Copywrite: Deana O’Hara, Red Bridges Home 2009
Deana O'Hara - Speaker, Comedian, Writer 