My Inconstant Moon

After my hiatus I had planned on returning to the weekly posts. As you can see, this plan has not worked out as expected. Many of my expectations have not been met. So what is the problem? I am going to go out on a limb and say that the issue is with my expectations.

The expectation that blogging would be fun.

• Blogging can be fun. The subject of your blog can dictate how fun it is to blog. Blogging about fashion or gardening or puppies might be fun. I blog about my life. My life has not approached fun in the past year. Why would blogging about it be fun? Instead it is heart wrenching and sad. At best it offers an amount of catharsis.
  
• This is my new perspective: Blogging is cathartic.

The expectation that other bloggers would welcome me into their community.

• I know that the blogging communities exist. I've seen blogHer pictures. I have felt a magnetic pull towards certain bloggers. Yet I don't feel much reciprocity. I have received some wonderful and supportive comments. I have a few people who read my blog. But I still feel as if I am screaming into the abyss. Well, am I? Yes. My writing is usually distant and not that good. No one can be expected to relate to that.
• I post sporadically. Is anyone seriously hugging their mouse, waiting in vain for me to drop another pearl of wisdom or painful episode into their reader? Hopefully not.
• Am I so desperate for a sense of connection that I'm holding my breath for comments and readers? Yes and no. I have gotten a lot of support from friends and family but very little understanding. They are usually happily married, had horrible divorces, or no children were involved... my experiences seem so foreign in my community. In Al-Anon, I get a lot of understanding and support but it's centered around a small facet of my life. When I started this blog I was drawn to the anonymity of the bloggers and immediacy of the responses. I wanted people who didn't know me to read between the lines and take me into their virtual arms. On the other hand, I am not interested in pouring my very limited energy into networking in a virtual world. The real world needs way to much of my time.
• My new perspective: I get out what I put into blogging.

The expectation that my lawyer would listen to me.

• I wanted to set up child support and custody by filing for a legal separation. My husband may be moving a few hours away to learn a new trade. He would be in another state for a few months or more. I want to make sure that my daughter sees her father even if it means that I take her there once a month and he stays with us two weeks later. They need each other and their relationship must be nurtured in a healthy way.
• Additionally, I need some financial support. I have taken over all of the bills but have only made $12,000 this year. I am becoming a budget master, have gotten a new job to keep our house and take care of my daughter, and have begun saving as much as possible for our future. Still, I could use some help. This sounds very clear cut and reasonable to me. I filled out the financial paperwork and signed a sheet attesting that the financial statements were true.
  
• My husband was served something so heinous that, when he read it over the phone, I felt sick to my stomach. He knew it wasn't what I had asked for and said that it didn't sound like me. The sheet that I had signed was attached to this nightmare. I was on the phone with my lawyer in minutes. I met with him the next day. He said that this was boilerplate language and clearly this was a case where boilerplate wasn't appropriate. I told him that this situation, my life, is hard enough. We, my husband and I, are doing the best that we can to make this family function in whatever form it takes. And that he, my lawyer, had declared war against my husband on my behalf. I received a refund for my retainer and the motion was retracted the next day.
• My new perspective: Read everything, sign nothing until it is complete, and make your lawyer repeat your intentions out loud.

The expectation that things would change in my marriage.

• They have not. My husband took heart in the retraction of the order for separation. He said we should find a couples' counselor and try counseling again. I have been the one to set up every lawyer, adviser, counselor, doctor, or professional for both of us. I said I was completely open to that but thought that he should make the arrangements. He happily agreed. Then he said that he would be at a wedding that upcoming weekend, at work all the next week but then he would call after that. It has been three weeks, no call. Last night he checked what my upcoming schedule was like but I can't get my hopes up. There is always a difference between intention and action, the talk and the walk. It's the difference that hurts. But it only hurts if I let it. Ignoring his words would only put up bigger walls and close off communication. Holding him to his words would only build up anger and resentment.
  
• My new perspective: Acknowledge the talk but only put stock in the walk.

So that's the landscape of my blogging and personal life at the moment. Sorry if you were looking for a happy post about eating sunshine and crapping rainbows, I'm not that kind of girl. But, I promise to work on my expectations and maybe I'll approach fun-ish. Do you have something that needs work?

I'd like to think of it as an experiment...

An experiment is a way to test a hypothesis. A hypothesis is usually stated in "If..., then..." form. Let's pretend that this was my hypothesis:

• If I wash a Dora the Explorer Pull-up diaper in the washing machine with a full load of clothing, then I will be late for work.

I am happy to report that the experiment was a complete success! Even more importantly, I can state that my hypothesis was totally true. If you would like to replicate this experiment just leave a comment and I can give you the details.

P.S. If you have any clue what such an experiment does to a washing machine, please leave a comment... on second thought, only if the result is, "makes you machine work better."

P.P.S. My next hypothesis to test:

• If the gel balls from a washed diaper are shaken out of articles of clothing and scooped out of the washing machine drum, then a wash and second rinse will actually clean the clothes.

I'll let you know how that experiment goes.
______________________________

Update: My second test did not go as well as the first. The second hypothesis proved to be false. No matter though! As my friend told me, "There is no progress without experimentation!" Although, I could say, "There are no gel balls with cloth diapers!" Ahhhhhhh, regrets...

Hiatus

hiatus [hahy-ey-tuhs]
–noun, plural -tus, -es, -tus.

1. a break or interruption in the continuity of a work, series, action, etc.
2. a missing part; gap or lacuna: Scholars attempted to account for the hiatus in the medieval manuscript.
3. any gap or opening.
4. Grammar Prosody. the coming together, with or without break or slight pause, and without contraction, of two vowels in successive words or syllables, as in see easily.
5. Anatomy. a natural fissure, cleft, or foramen in a bone or other structure.

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My hiatus:

1. a 3 month interruption in the weekly posts for this blog.
2. a gap which can be accounted for due to changes in the life of the author.
3. a separation.
4. as in We each need to get help, by ourselves and together, if we are going to make this work.
5. Anatomy of a marriage. A fissure between the two members.

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The broad emotional strokes were painted in the previous post. But there are many concrete factors that contributed to the separation. Promises made, trusts broken, affections lost, attentions unpaid, communications halted, alcoholism untreated, responsibilities shirked, priorities unordered, depression unacknowledged, family marginalized, time wasted, efforts unappreciated, debts ignored, children unloaded, and chances squandered. Things that have been allowed to find purchase in the rift between intention and action. Horrible things that have been allowed to bloom terrible flowers. I had to put on my gardening gloves and get out my pruning shears.

Last October, I pulled myself out of depression and the trap of simply existing. It was time to change the downward course of my life, of our life together. I had focused on my daughter's health and happiness because my own was suffering and I was overwhelmed by the steps I needed to take to heal. What I had failed to realize is that my daughter's life will only be healthy and happy if the members of her family are healthy and happy as well. We all needed healing. I could not force my husband to heal. He needed to take responsibility for his own mental and physical health. By the same token, only I could take control of my own well being.

The substance abuse center that had been recommended for my husband offered couple's counseling. I contacted the coordinator and made an appointment. What should have been a couple's meeting turned out to be just for me, and just as well. I have made poor choices, ignored red flags, thought foolishly and magically, and been blind to my willing participation in our roller coaster ride. I had been humbled by the problems that we were facing and knew that I did not have the answers or make the best choices. My counselor suggested Al-Anon. I went with an open mind and was met with open arms. There is a kinship and understanding in the rooms that is indescribable. "They did _____!" is met with, "That's what they did. What did you do?" The mirror is both uncomfortable and liberating. Enabling gives way to empowerment. Impotent worry gives way to positive action. There are no solutions, there are no easy answers, but there are tools to make situations better and practices to lessen personal pain. Change your outlook, change your life. It seems absurdly simple but it is also absurdly true.

Things needed to be done. Someone had to do them. No pointing fingers. No pleading for help. No procrastination. No resentment. No guilt. These simple facts of daily life exist regardless of what drama is unfolding. Suck it up and get it done. Life began to improve. The household projects were progressing. The cleaning, cooking, laundry, and gardening fell into a consistent rhythm of accomplishment instead of frustrated fits and starts. Depression started to dissipate like fog. So did the pull of the emotional roller coaster. So did the false promises of magical thinking. This is when the unraveling began.

As I stood up, woke up, my husband tried to get help. Tried, but ultimately it is not his time to change. We are different people then when we met. Our lives have evolved in many unexpected ways. We have responsibilities that must be met. Roles that must be filled. His life as he lives it is incompatible with all of the responsibilities that his role demands. He must reconcile himself with the parameters of this role and willingly accept its responsibilities. This reconciliation and acceptance is where intention and action must meet. This is a truth without blame or accusation. This is something that I cannot do for him. In April, we went to a highly recommended couple's therapist. I had been working solidly on my issues for a few months and was saddened by his defensive anger, blame, and resentments. We left with some very simple but tension releasing instructions. We were able to enjoy a nice weekend together as a family.

The following week, a disappointing event occurred. It was not the first. It was not the worst. It was simply enough. I will not demonize my husband or make a mockery of our pain by giving unnecessary details. There was no abuse or adultery. There was no dramatic explosion with soap-opera revelations. Instead, as I lay in the quiet hour between him slipping into bed and the alarm going off, I realized that I could not continue with the life we were living. I realized that it needed to change. Through calm words and large rolling tears I told him that I loved him but I did not love our situation. That we went around and around in the same sick cycle and it had to stop. The choices he was making for himself negatively affected us, his family. We had discussed this ad nauseum without resolution. No event, no matter how horrible the ramifications, was enough to make the behavior stop. He needed help. I needed help. We needed help. The help we needed was not to be found in a continuation of old routines and empty promises. We could work on our relationship after he was sober for 30 days. I did not mandate what help he should get or make any threats, I simply asked him to leave. That night we physically separated.

This sounds arbitrary but as a binge drinker he is able to avoid alcohol for as long as 3 weeks. 30 days would have given him enough time to break out of the must drink-remorse-promises-short temper-nice guy-must drink cycle of his alcoholism. Not that everything would be solved in 30 days but he could have enough perspective to at least talk with me instead of through his disease. I cannot emphasize enough that his alcoholism is not to blame for our problems. Unfortunately, it makes all of our problems worse.

I took complete responsibility (financial and otherwise) of our daughter, rental home, car insurance, and cell phones. Other than gas and food, he had no bills to pay. My hope was that this would give him a chance to get a place to stay, or perhaps, given the excellent health insurance we have, into a residential treatment facility. In the mean time, I could give my daughter the stability she needed and myself a less stressful environment in which to work on my faults. Despite this, the next few weeks were filled with anger and tears. Lashing out and acting aloof. Accusations and wild promises. I stayed resolute. Painfully, sadly, and hopefully resolute. The first therapist was abandoned. He suggested a new one and offered to make the call to set up the appointment. The call was never made. He started to go to AA and found a sponsor. He still binges every week.

He attended an intense self-help seminar over a long weekend. Although this wasn't a magical cure-all it did provide some healthy self-discovery. It broke through a lot of the tension that had been building between us. Our communication has been slow and measured but much better. Say what you mean, mean what you say, don't say it mean. In discussing our situation he said, "You make it sound like it happened all the time. It only happened once a week or so." I replied, "It usually only happens once or twice in a relationship. So why do I deserve to be treated with such little respect?" That question was not for him, it was for me, and I knew it. At another point we discussed the concept of hitting bottom. "You can't make that happen for me." I answered, "I understand that. This isn't about your 'bottom' it's about mine."

And that's the point I guess. I had reached the end of my ability to deal with the degradation of our lives. There was too much to enjoy, too much fun to be had, too much love to be shared, too many adventures to take, too many friendships to foster, to wallow in depression and misery. I thought I had a true love. I know now that I my true love can take many forms. I thought I had a family with my husband and my daughter. I know now that I have a family that will endure to the end of my days, regardless of how tangled the family tree becomes. I thought I had a life partner. I know now that I will spend the rest of my life with my husband, even if I he no longer wears the title. My responsibility is to make it the best relationship that I can. To foster the love and respect that we both deserve. To give our daughter the best that we can offer.

This was how I spent the last 3 months. What did you do?

How about a taste of my own medicine?

This post started as something else. Then something monumental and life-changing happened. Or, more accurately, I committed to something very difficult. The existing version seemed silly. It was erased. Emotional or emotionless nonsense followed. So here I am, sitting in front of this post one more time.

My intention with this blog is to share advice I have been asked for, opinions I have developed, and tidbits I have experienced. What I have recently gone through is not a tidbit. It cannot be shared in one neat entry. With this in mind, I will try and avoid trivial details. Instead, I will attempt to explain my mental process. Exorcise a few of my many demons.

Spontaneity. Adventures. Conversations. Trust.

Slowly...
Over years...
These things have slipped away...

There were discussions. Improvements followed. Then declines.
Fights.
Discussions.
Improvements.
Declines.
Fights.
Discussions.
Improvements.
Declines.
Fights.

The background rhythm to my life...
and the beat goes on...
and so does my life...
and new melodies play over this rhythm...
relationships mature...
jobs change...
friendships bloom...
babies are born...
and still this sickening rhythm goes on...

But the melodies change the priorities of the song of my life and a truly improved rhythm is required. One that is not in constant tension with the wonderful possibilities of my song.

It is my song.
It is ultimately my responsibility to change the beat.
I can no longer look to others for that change.
It comes from within.
It is true that factors affect the nature of the rhythm but the extent of the impact is in my hands.

I have had to ask tough questions:
What role have I played in creating this rhythm?
How often have I danced along?
How often have I allowed my melodies to be influenced by the pattern of this beat?

I do not like the answers. I have not liked my song. Some of the melodies are beautiful and harmonious. Too many have been allowed to become dissonant.

I wake up to a disappointingly familiar low point in the rhythm. It is not the worst but it is enough. The song is broken. My song is broken. It cannot continue as it is. There is no anger. There is no joy. There is only despair. It sounds like breaking glass.

The rhythm is stopped. The melodies continue. The beat of necessity is used to prop them up and allow the song to limp along.

The hope... and there is hope... is that the beat can be changed. Helped. Healed. Cycles broken. Hearts mended.

The fear... and there is fear... is that the beat will be allowed to end. No effort. Just pain.

The solace... and there is solace... is that families never end. They can change, rearrange, but they never truly end.

And there is love...

Love.

LOVE.

And it is worthy of the hardest work...
and I will work...
and I hope I am joined in the work...

Hope.

HOPE...

For the new. For the possibilities. For the promises.

For the love.

My Story... For Maddie...

There was blood. There was dilation. There were contractions. There was panic. There was a steroid shot. There were antibiotics. There was bed rest. There was waiting. There was water... sweet, hot, early, and terrible. Then, there was a baby. My baby...

Tubes, IVs, monitors, lights, alarms, and my precious baby in the NICU. She fought to breathe on her own, to eat on her own, to be on her own. She won.

Home. Healthy. Happy. Until she stopped breathing, stopped fighting. She was early. She didn't know that the fight wasn't over. We had to help her fight, to hold her up. We held her for months until she could hold her own.

But there are always worries. Colds, infections, coughs, and what they mean for the early ones.

But there is love... so much love. And joy... more than a heart can handle. I am better because of her. I see other families and I know that their children make them better too. The love and joy our children have given us enriches the lives of everyone we touch.

This amazing world allows us to connect to so many people on such personal levels. As I am blessed by the stories people have been generous enough to share, I realize something. Every family's story is my story and every family's story is their own.

Heather and Mike, I have followed your story for some time. Silently reliving so many experiences. Quietly smiling at all of your unique humor and creativity. Amazed at the baby girl on the screen, so much like my baby, so completely and beautifully singular.

Although our experiences at this point are so different, your lives have touched me. I am moved to leave the shadows. I am only one small voice that you have never heard before, but I join the chorus. Your daughter is loved. Your daughter is vibrant. She brings laughter to the lips and tears to the eyes of legions. Thank you for sharing a small piece of her light with us, we are all better for it.

Madeline Alice Spohr

November 11, 2007 - April 7, 2009

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Information about Maddie, donations to Maddie's favorite charity

(March of Dimes), helping the Spohrs, and the service and reception.

Bite your dog...

This is just a simple bit of advice about communication. So often we feel that we are being misunderstood. No one understands us. No one gets us. Maybe it's because we aren't speaking the same language. Or your language is not the same as the people listening to you. Or, more accurately, your reality, and the language that comes from it, is different from the reality of the person with whom you are speaking. Think about it. Perhaps you are misunderstood because you can't put yourself in the other person's shoes. You can't describe your reality in a way that is meaningful to them.

Enter the dog. The dog likes to play with you. You like to play with the dog. Sometimes it gets beyond fun and the fangs and claws start to hurt. You say "OW!" and Fido gnaws harder. You squeal and run away, Spot bounds after you. Your perspective: you and your lovable fur ball were playing and it got out of control. Woofer's view: They were playing with their favorite person, it got to be really fun, their person squealed happily, and started an awesome game of chase.

Watch a mother dog playing with her puppies. They enjoy playing. Sometimes it gets out of control. She handles it in a very distinct way that the puppy completely understands. She bites them. Gently but firmly on their muzzle. Play stops. Lesson learned. The mother dog speaks the same language as the puppy, obviously. But more than that, she understands the puppy's reality. She was there once herself.

Contrary to the title, I am not suggesting that you actually bite your dog, or anyone else for that matter. What I am suggesting is to think outside of your situation. Sometimes when we feel the most misunderstood it is because we have cut ourselves off from everyone else. With a little less ego and a little larger perspective it is possible to find a common language, a common reality. Use your imagination and flex your compassion, viola - understanding between co-workers, relatives, couples, generations, species, etc... A little effort with a lot of reward: better relationships and a stronger sense of connection.

On loss...

Pregnancy is amazing. It is scary, humbling, awe-inspiring, and beautiful. Pregnancy makes the future bloom with possibility and wither as well. Your dreams are manifest in every kick and heartbeat. Your fears are present in every stillness or drop of blood.

There are assurances. There are milestones. You move from one point of panic to another, adding new hopes and dreams along the way. You mark these points of progress because you no longer have to worry about being queasy and can look forward to elastic waistbands. With every step forward you are thankful to put away the concerns of the last step, because you don't have to worry about that anymore.

But sometimes you do. Sometimes you are far enough along not to worry about miscarriage, but it happens anyway. Sometimes you begin to bleed but the baby's heartbeat is strong and regular. Sometimes you try to calm the spasms but the urge to push is too strong. Sometimes your body fails you and you push that still beating heart out of you.

You hold your family close. You kiss your child. You stare in amazement at the card and pictures from the grief counselor. You touch the impossibly tiny footprints. You become angry at yourself. You become angry at everyone else who is pregnant. Everyone is pregnant. Everyone is healthy. Everyone says something nice and normal. Everything sounds crass and crazy. Everything is not okay.

It won't be okay. It never will be. But there are other milestones. Other worries. Other joys. As these dearest possibilities are lost and mourned, different futures are unfolded. Even in passing, your baby is loved and your heart will never change even though the course of your life has.

Our futures and families are intertwined and fragile. This contains disturbing topics...

I listen to the news in my car, at work, in my home. I listen and, increasingly, I have to fight back tears. Horrors are being visited upon people of all ages in Congo, Sudan, Rwanda, Zimbabwe, Thailand, Cambodia, and too many other countries around the world. Women and children are kidnapped and sold into sexual slavery around the world. They face a future of repeated rape, torture, forced abortions, mutilations, sexually transmitted diseases, and possibly murder. Men and boys are being conscripted into militias, drugged, beaten, threatened, and forced to endure soul-killing atrocities. Villages are being burned, wells poisoned, the men taken or killed, the women raped or killed, and the children- even infants- are raped and left behind. Families are torn apart, bodies are broken, dreams crushed, futures dashed, hopes killed. Young girls suffer from fistulas, caused by gang rapes or implements used to violate them. Boys have to learn to live without their hands, hacked off so they can't pick up a gun. Women give birth to babies with the faces of their attackers. Schools are destroyed. Industry and agriculture cease. Suffering is manifest in all its forms.

I look at my child, my husband, my father, my mother, my brothers, my sisters, my nieces, my nephews, my friends, my neighbors, my self. I realize that these people suffering around the world are the same as the people in my home, my family, and my community. These people are members of our family and they need our help. Governments, armies, police, political stability, economic health, education, and health care are the elements needed to stop the criminals, the militias, or the monsters wearing human skins. But we can help our families. We can help our brothers and sisters, our sons and daughters, our mothers and fathers. Even with our shrinking pocketbooks and tighter budgets, we can help. We can give to charities and organizations that build hospitals, build schools, teach skills, provide counseling, and foster hope. We can volunteer our time to bring attention to the ongoing atrocities. We can stand up when others cannot. We can speak when others are silenced. We can save our families. We can build our future.

Amnesty International

Doctors Without Borders

Women for Women International

Campaign to End Fistula

The Polaris Project

There are so many more organizations trying to help and so many more people who need help. It starts by choosing just one and putting my two cents where they are needed most.

A Meaningful Conversation...

Have a conversation with someone you love. Don't select a topic. Don't set an agenda. Don't think about the course of the discussion ahead of time. Don't try to "make a point or "set them straight." Don't talk down to them, at them, or about yourself. Sit down with someone and look them in the eye. Talk to them about everything, anything, or nothing at all. The state of their world, their dreams for their life and future, or an observation of the mundane in their day. They may surprise you with how they see their situation, their vivid imagination, or their wonderful sense of the absurd.

If you have a conversation with your children you will strengthen your bond with them. You will build mutual trust and respect. You will get a glimpse of their perspective and they will get a glimpse of yours. This fosters empathy and compassion. Younger children, even infants, will increase their vocabulary, grasp of context, and deeper meanings beyond just simple labels (bottle, dog, bath, etc...). Older children will be challenged to speak candidly with an adult in a safe environment, building their confidence and their conversational techniques. You may be surprised by what you learn about your children, their abilities, and their opinions. With adult children, you may discover a new friendship and sense of pride in someone you've always known but not necessarily understood.

If you have a conversation with your parents you may find the person behind the label of "Mom" or "Dad." These are the people who suffer your judgement, condescension, and exasperation. These are also the people who want more for you than they want for themselves. However many imperfections or transgressions you can count against them, they love you the best that they know how. You may discover that you have never really seen the person in front of you, their dreams, their sacrifices, their pain, their problems, their humor, or their worth.

Couples can remember why they stayed up all night talking when they first met. Friends can share more than jokes. Neighbors can share more than fences. Family members can share more than blood. We are a social species, defining ourselves by our relationships to others. Weave the tapestry of your life with the most fulfilling relationships you can and you will be able to wrap yourself in their warmth and love to the end of your days.

Gardens are good...

Money is tight... and getting tighter. Relationships are strained. Nerves are fried. There is a persistent, pit-of-the-stomach tension that fills the air like fog. Make a small but meaningful investment. Buy some seeds.

Whether they are 1 acre or 1 pot... gardens fulfill the promise of bounty. Your work will be rewarded. Your time will be well spent. Your investment will bear fruit... literally. This sort of return cannot be guaranteed by the stock market, your retirement account, or your home equity.

When you feel insecure and on shaky ground, plant the garden. Dig into the ground and ground yourself. When your mind is plagued by doubts and worries, weed the garden. Every weed pulled will take a bad thought with it. When you can't see the light at the end of the tunnel, tend your garden. Pruning the suckers and training the vines get you one step closer to the harvest, one step closer to better times. As your garden grows so will your sense of well-being. There are other benefits to be sure: healthy and inexpensive food; great exercise; lower blood pressure.

Obviously, gardens aren't the solution to every problem but they help. Too often times like these leave us broken, lost, crawling into bottles, numbing ourselves in front of screens, or distancing ourselves from loved ones. Gardens give us purpose. They give us hope. They give us the joy of anticipation versus the gloom of foreboding. They give us an opportunity to escape without being destructive or "wasting time." They give us the chance to get dirty and laugh with our friends and family.

If you've never done it before you can start small. A pot, some soil, a few seeds... soon you could be cutting beautiful daisies, snipping delicious basil, picking succulent tomatoes, and smiling. We could all use more reasons to smile.

Like Mud...

The getting-to-know-you stage, so wonderful, interesting, exciting, and fun. Hours spent talking and touching in exploration of new nooks and crannies. Days spent enjoying meals and activities that were normally mundane. Weeks spent planning adventures and dancing around the trappings of a common future. These are the gentle times filled with kind words, soft touches, enveloping kisses, and passionate stares. These are the times when you slip easily into the warm mud.

Harsh words, sharp stares, quick movements, and closed arms. The tension inside reaches out to find a sparring partner but is met with a wall. Why are you being this way? What did I do? How did this happen? Don't you care? The emotion-bred questions go unanswered. The tears are not wiped away. The outstretched hand is not held. These are the times when you are thrust against the mud and find it is cold and the impact is hard.

But there is love and desire. The ghosts of the wonderful past and the hopes of the bright future swirl around the grim reality of the present. Problems are revealed; emotional insecurities, bouts of depression, questionable choices, and deafening silences. Doubts, accusations, and resentments find purchase in the growing divide. There must be something to fix this. There must be some way to help them. You will hold the relationship together. You will take care of their problems. You will do this and lose your sense of self and self-worth. These are the times when you learn how sticky the mud is and how quickly you can drown.

You need to pull yourself out of the mud and save yourself. Just getting out of the situation isn't enough. You have set yourself aside and put someone else's well being ahead of your own. In doing so, you have diminished yourself. This loss must be addressed.

You will not find what you lost by focusing on the past. All you will find are ways to doubt and blame yourself. You gave everything you could and you gave enough. Let that go. You will plant the fruits of the future in the soil of the present, make sure that the soil is as rich as possible.

Take stock in yourself, be gentle and realistic. Find something you are thankful for every day. Take small steps towards achieving small goals; spring cleaning, seeing the museum exhibit, going to the concert, finishing the project, volunteering in the community, reading the book, signing up for the class. These things are fulfilling and replenishing. They are also the first steps on the road to realizing big dreams, your dreams. Once you have momentum, you will find fellow travellers. They are recognizable by what they can share with you- not what they need from you. Whatever you do, don't get stuck in the mud again.

Adopting a little love...

In these tough times, a little love can go a long way to bring smiles and heal hearts. Animals from shelters are filled with a lot of love. They all have their own stories. Maybe they were abandoned, abused, or neglected. Maybe their old family no longer has the money to care for them or the home to provide for them. Maybe their former family member passed away and they have no one to take them. Then they were thrust into a strange place, scared, confused, and lonely. The details of their stories may be visible in shy glances and hung heads or kept hidden behind wagging tails and contented purrs.

What matters to them now is their future. The home they can share, the family they can form, the love they can give. Yes, there will be vet, food, and incidental bills, all of which should be taken into consideration before adoption. Fortunately, the joy and love they give more than makes up for any cost they incur. The lives of both the animal and their new family are changed for the better. Every morning is brightened by smiles and every evening is filled with snuggles. Car rides become adventures. Walks become expressions of glee. Laser pointers become objects of obsession. If the choice to adopt is made, prepare to laugh.

A few tips:

1. Watch out for allergies in the animal. While allergies aren't common in all breeds or species, they can be mistaken for "bad" or odd behavior. Some symptoms include paw chewing/excessive licking, face rubbing, labored breathing, swelling around eyes/jowls, diarrhea, and uncontrollable bowel movements.
2. If a male animal is brought into a home where other animals have lived (even if years have passed) consider using an odor eliminating cleanser to clean the floors/furniture/carpets. A black light can help identify urine stains for deep cleaning. This can greatly reduce the urge to "mark" his new territory.
3. Don't buy everything at once. Avoid a huge bill by getting to know the animal before shopping for their "necessities" (that rhinestone collar and matching tutu).

Rock Climbing

After a Tough Day

Bet on The Lobster

Lessons Learned... and Learned Again

1. Do Not Let Someone Else's Actions Dictate Your Feelings:

A minor disruption causes a quick fuse to ignite with a tantrum of inappropriate words and actions.

Their poor performance doesn't need a critique, they are probably looking for you to justify their bad mood. When someone is acting irrationally and makes you feel defensive or hurt, is your response going to be from a place of rationality? Will they receive your reaction with rationality? Take a breath. Observe their actions but don't take them to heart. If this is too difficult, walk away. If the incident needs to be addressed, do it when those involved are calm and willing to reflect.

2. Do Not Let Someone Else's Feelings Dictate Your Actions:

Plans have been made but one of the participants is unhappy. They repeatedly insinuate that the plans should be cancelled as if to say, "I'm unhappy, you should be unhappy too."

The idea that the unhappy individual does not want to participate is entirely acceptable. They have a right to do what they like. However, none of the other participants should be forced to forgo their own plans. This sort of behavior indicates that the unhappy individual wants to be acknowledged, be the center of attention, or have company in their misery. These wants are not the responsibilities of others. An appropriate response, "I'm sorry you can't make it, you'll be missed. Maybe you can join us next time." The disappointment they feel will be theirs to own and no guilt should be felt.

3. Say What You Mean, Mean What You Say, and Don't Say It Mean:

A situation involving relatives or friends results in requests for advice/thoughts/discussion.

The most important part of this situation is that your input was requested. This doesn't mean that they want you to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. This also doesn't mean that the honest answers they are looking for need to be brutally honest. Again, take a breath. Consider their situation and the best possible honest response you have to offer. Remember that the best structures are well supported, not easily torn down.

All of these points seem simple and obvious. True, but they are not always easily applied. They are not cures for every uncomfortable or confrontational situation. They are tools to make these situations better.

Love, Marriage, Family, and Lies

A phone call from a sobbing friend. The first meeting with a couple's therapist brings a startling revelation. "I have never loved you." Suddenly, 8 years are filled with lies: marriage, serious health scares, birth of twins, new house, economic trials, and all of the caring whispers and gentle touches that come with a shared life. Every mountain and valley, every hug and kiss, every picture and memory, all of it formed from the interweaving of two lives, two intentions, two emotions. What do you do if one of them was insincere?

You fall apart, you break down, you allow yourself to feel the pain and betrayal. Then you look at your children and realize that you were sincere. You loved, touched, hugged, kissed, laughed, and cried with your heart invested. You lived the last 8 years as a whole person without deception or self-deception. But there is no righteousness here because ultimately, this new truth will alter all of the lives it touches.

The future is now what is important because there are children. Children are not lies, nor are they made of lies. They are part of a family that exists beyond truth and deception. A family has been created and although it's structure may change, it will not end. The family filled with resentments and inappropriate comments is divided by chasms too deep to build meaningful bonds across. The family filled with love and respect can be divided by space and divorce but connected by unbreakable bonds. Love may not exist between the parents but it is important that this new truth becomes the foundation of a respect. Respect them for their parenting skills, what hard workers they are, their sense of humor, anything, because you will be with this person for the rest of your life through your children.

You will be together at plays, games, and birthdays. You will be together to discuss discipline, education, and dating. You will be together for good times and bad times. Find some common ground to make those shared moments about your children and not about your animosity or hurt feelings. This common ground makes it easier on your children as well. Spare them inappropriate comments, looks, and sighs. Your children know that they are made up of both of their parents, if you disparage their other parent, they feel that you are disparaging them as well. As they grow up, they will remember the things you have said or done and judge you accordingly. If you showed them how respectful you are, they will respect you. If you show them how resentful you are, you will earn their resentment.

But right now, while the doubts swirl and the wounds ache, breathe. Know that you are surrounded by love from your children, friends, parents, and siblings. Know that you deserve this love and it is real. Know that you will find love in the future as well. It may not be in the form that you had imagined, or follow the plan that you had had for your life, but it will come. Know this and remind yourself of it often. Chase away your doubts and hurt feelings with this knowledge. Eventually, you will trust this love in your heart as much as you know it in your head. But for now, breathe.

My Two Cents

A different perspective, a little clarity, or a kick in the tukus if necessary. Come and get my two cents... for what they're worth!