Fifteen Years

Exactly fifteen years ago today I met my ex husband.

This date is stuck in my head, just because we always used to celebrate it like a mini-holiday. I had to count up the number of years in my head yesterday and was shocked to learn just how many it was, that we’d known each other. Fifteen years. That really feels like a lot.

In fifteen years I have gone from an unsure, unworthy-feeling naive woman with an inferiority complex and the inability to love herself to a strong, confident happy person who, most days, is pretty certain of her own self-worth. A lot of changes.

In an odd way I have to thank my ex for many of those changes. He did genuinely help me through some pretty tough things in my life, particularly my disordered eating recovery back in the early days of our relationship. I was so weak at the time that I’m pretty sure I never would have gotten through that on my own. So for that, I am grateful.

And it’s not as though our entire relationship was awful. We did genuinely love each other, even if that love was burdened with deep codependence. And, of course, it resulted in our two amazing awesome and amazing daughters, who I wouldn’t trade for anything. So of course I would go through it all again if that was the only way I could still end up with my girls.

Eventually I outgrew our relationship. I could see how I was being confined, boxed in. Trying to be a person that I just wasn’t. I wanted more. I wanted an equal partner who respected me — not a “parent” who tried to mold and shape me into his vision of a “better person”. I wanted daily laughter. Soaring happiness. Passion. Mutual respect. True partnership. Independence. Strength. Past experience told me that there was no way I could have any of those things while I was still with my ex.

I guess in a way I have my ex to thank for the relationship I have with CBG today. A relationship that includes all the things I ever wanted — and more. I have a partner who both lifts me up but gives me the freedom to do what I need to do on my own. Someone who loves me both exactly as I am, while inspiring me, daily, to be a better person. I’m not sure I ever would have aspired to any of this, had I not known the alternative.

So I guess there’s something to be grateful for in just about everything. Despite how difficult the last fifteen years have been times (and holy how, they have been capital-D “Difficult” at times!), I would go through it all again to end up where I am right now, at this point in my life. I have more happiness and love I ever thought I would. How lucky am I?

Facing The Truth as a Parent

I’ve always tried to raise my girls in such a way that felt able to express what they were thinking and feeling. I’ve always done my best to be open when they’ve approached me, no matter what they’re approaching me with. Kiddo in particular is extremely self-aware (more than many adults I know, in fact) and can articulate very well what she’s thinking and feeling. Lil’ Mo isn’t far behind, either, and has certainly come a long way in the last couple of years. I’ve often found myself in situations when I’ve had to answer difficult questions or explain difficult things, thanks to their intelligence, their self-awareness, and their ability to articulate their thoughts and feelings so well.

This past Sunday night, after a great family weekend together, Kiddo hauled me into her room at bedtime to talk.

“Mommy…sometimes after I go to bed I can hear you and CBG talking….about me. And I’m pretty sure that not all of it is good stuff.”

Ouch. It’s true. I mean, we’re parents, after all. And we’re human. It’s not like we’re bitching about the girls after they head off to bed, but sometimes we need to hash things out. We live in a small house and apparently we’re not as quiet as we thought we were. Note to self: No more sex on the nights the girls are with us. To be clear, it’s not like we’re totally ragging on them or anything, just typical parent stuff. Frustration over their inability to go to bed on time, annoyance at the state of Kiddo’s bedroom, things like that. Because honestly, our girls are pretty awesome and there’s really not many negative things we have to say about them.

In that moment I was faced with a choice. I could deny and downplay and make it seem like “no big deal”. Or I could face the music — admit my wrongdoing and acknowledge her feelings.

I took a deep breath. “You’re right, honey. Sometimes we do talk about you and your sister after you go to bed, and not all of it is good. Everyone sometimes needs to be able to get things off their chest, and that’s what we do sometimes. It’s what all people do sometimes. I’m sorry that you heard us talking.”

I waited for what might come next, preparing myself for the worst.

She looked at me and said, “It’s not that I mind so much that you’re talking about me, it’s just that I would prefer if you did it when I couldn’t hear you.”

Blink.

That kid never ceases to amaze me. Instead of being hurt and angry that we may have said some things that she didn’t like, she was able to recognize this as something that all people do, and just request that we do it a little more quietly. I am reminded of the Wayne Dyer quote, “What other people think of me is none of my business.” A lesson that I still struggle with myself from time to time.

I gave her a hug, apologized again, and told her that we would do our very best to make sure that she didn’t overhear us in the future. She was satisfied with that response and then went happily to bed.

As parents we’re never perfect, it’s just a plain fact of life. I can never pretend to be perfect, or even try, for that matter. All I can do is admit mistakes and attempt to do better next time. It’s all any of us can do, really.

Why I Love the 80s

I love taking road trips with CBG. We’ve taken a few over the years, all over the Maritimes and even to Maine early last summer. No matter how long the drive, we never run out of things to talk about. Ever.

Just this past weekend when we were taking a trip with our girls to visit Ankle Biter for a couple of days, we got talking about our favourite decade, the 80s. We both grew up in the 80s and have many fond memories from that time period. There’s nothing we love more than driving in the car together and belting out 80s tunes – the cheesier the better. Our last road trip got me thinking about the 80s more than usual, and all of the reasons why I love that decade so much.

Here are just a few things that I love (and miss!) about the 80s.

The fashion. Let’s see….jelly shoes, neon clothes, legwarmers and acid washed jeans. I don’t think I’ve ever been into fashion as much since, as I was back in the 80s. I loved my legwarmers and jelly bracelets. And crimped hair? Hello! Nothing says 80s more than a big ole’ bouffant hairdo with crimped ends. And please, tell me that I’m not the only one out there who remembers friendship pins. Nothing screamed “I’m awesome!” back in the 80s like having your sneaker laces covered with friendship pins.

Anyone else remember these?

The music. There are so many things to love about 80s music. The one-hit wonders. The cheesy ballads. The over-the-top music videos. Madonna before she looked like Skeletor. I have a particular fondness for some of the more obscure songs and artists, and it impresses the hell out of CBG when I recognize (and can sing along with!) a song that has been long forgotten by most of our generation. Sometimes I’m not sure if I should brag about this or be embarrassed by it.

The TV shows. There were so many great television shows back in the day — Facts of Life, Love Boat, The Greatest American Hero, Fantasy Island, Knight Rider, Family Ties….I could keep this list going all day. They just don’t make TV shows like those, with the celebrities we cared about in the 80′s. Shows that the whole family can sit down and enjoy together like we used to. Sure, there are shows that I watch with my girls now on occasion, but you can’t tell me that iCarly is today’s equivalent of “The Cosby Show”. It’s just not the same.

The movies. There were so many movies back in the 80s that seemed to define the decade. Say Anything, The Breakfast Club, Ferris Bueller’s Day off…movies that I can (and do!) still watch even today. They may not necessarily stand the test of time (I’m not sure if my girls will ever appreciate the gloriousness that is the movie Flashdance, but they’ve got some great memories for me and I’ll continue watching them until I’m a little old lady I’m sure.

What about everyone else? Do you enjoy the 80s as much as I do? What’s your favourite thing about the 80s that you’re willing to admit here?

Mind Games

I’ve been struggling a lot lately getting into the groove with running again. Physically I had a bad winter. Between recovering from adrenal fatigue and living with sciatica, I just simply wasn’t running. Never mind the fact that I despise cold weather running. I actually enjoyed having a bit of a break, after all the marathon training last year.

On the physical side of things I’m doing a lot better. My super-duper vitamin injections and supplements helped with the adrenal fatigue (not to mention more daylight hours), and the sciatica has improved, thanks to some brutal massages, tons of stretching and trading in my office chair for a stability ball. My bad hip isn’t 100%, but it’s not preventing me from running anymore, which is the main part.

CBG and I are now on the wedding countdown (101 days to go, in case anyone is curious!) and we’ve both committed ourselves to getting into better shape before the big day. So for the last month or so I’ve really been making an effort to get out there and run in the mornings, now that my physical issues aren’t as troublesome.

I’m still encountering problems, though — of the mental variety. Those of you who are runners know that in order to be successful at distance running, there is a certain “zone” you need to get into when you’re out there. It’s a special kind of head space; I think of it as moving meditation. It’s where you’re able to let go completely of how your body is feeling and allow your mind to take you places other than where you are right at the moment. My long runs have allowed me to plan future events, mull over past and current problems, dream about possibilities. I simply let my mind go where it wants and enjoy the ride, without having to force anything.

But the problem right now is that I absolutely can’t find that zone. I can’t find the zone and so every single step of every single run pretty much sucks. And as soon as I find myself getting into “The Zone”, I snap myself out of it somehow.

“This sucks, I’m only doing 5k and that’s it.”

“It’s going to be a busy day at work today.”

“My hip is starting to hurt. Am I pushing myself too hard?”

“Tomorrow I’m sleeping in, dammit.”

“I really should run tomorrow.”

“What if I’m never able to do another long distance run again?”

“Why can’t I think about something else?”

“Okay, I’m going to think about wedding planning. We have a million things to do.”

“Shit. Hill. I hate this hill. This hill sucks.”

“I need to start doing some hill work. I’m too slow. This shouldn’t hurt this much.”

“Did I really run a marathon only 6 months ago?”

“Hey! I just thought about something else for like five whole minutes. Shit. Now I’m thinking about running again.”

“F*ck this noise, I’m going home.”

You get the idea. The craptastic quality of these runs have put me in a place where I’m allowing doubt to creep in. I worry about my ability to ever run long distance again. I worry that I’m getting old and my body is wearing out. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to get over this mental mountain.

And with all of the running doubts come other doubts as well. About myself, my life, choices that I’m making. Everything is in question these days — nothing is safe. I feel like if I could get out there for a good long run, I’d be able to sort through it all and get everything straight in my mind. The cruel irony, though, is that my mind seems to be getting in the way of me having a good run long run.

And so round and round it goes.

Bah.

Bliss

There are still so many moments where I look over at CBG and am overwhelmed with happiness. Those blissful moments when everything seems completely and utterly perfect….that I know that all the struggles we endured to get here were completely worth it.

It’s not perfect. But no relationship is. I value the imperfect moments almost as much as the perfect ones; they teach me about life, love, and myself. They show me where I need to grow and how better to love him — and myself. They point me in the direction to take to make our relationship better, stronger, and dare I say – even happier than it already is.

I haven’t been writing much lately. It’s funny, how it’s actually more difficult to write about all the happy moments in our lives than it was to write when things weren’t always so blissful. I had so much more to say when I was wishing for more; when I was steeped in loneliness and longing.

But now?

Now life is a stream of so many happy moments that it’s impossible to capture them all. Again, not perfect, but perfection isn’t something that I want anyhow. Instead I prefer growth, change, a reason to strive for better. Because as happy as it all is…I still long for better. After all, its longing in our lives that gives us something to work for,  isn’t it?

I’ll get back into my writing groove soon, I promise. In the coming months there will be wedding deets to share, if nothing else. Blended family goodness, mom stuff to discuss. And of course, there are always muddled thoughts and feelings to work through…I just need to once again, discipline myself to actually sit down and sort through them.

But for now I’m going to simply sit back and enjoy the bliss. It looks an awful lot like the bald guy sitting here on the couch beside me. I’m going to enjoy it for a little while longer before I start thinking about it too hard.

Running for Boston

If you’re a runner I’m sure that like me, running is your outlet for whatever emotion you happen to be dealing with at any given time. I run when I’m angry. I run to deal with stress. I’ve run through grief, loneliness and boredom. I’ve even run to celebrate life’s happier moments. I’ve run to challenge myself and prove my strengths. There is not an emotion that running hasn’t seen me through at one time or another.

This morning I ran for Boston. Like a lot of other people out there who are doing the same thing today. Not because running is going to bring back those who died or heal those who have been injured. We are running to mend our hearts, and the hearts of those of us in this world who are feeling shaken by this whole experience.

This morning I ran to show myself and the world that I refuse to let fear hold me down. I ran to restore my faith in humanity. I ran because I refuse to let the darkness win. I ran to show — myself, more than anyone — that I still have faith in humanity, that I still believe the good guys outnumber the bad ones. As difficult as it is, I can’t allow myself to believe anything else.

*If you’d like to join in on the ‘Run for Boston’ movement happening all around the world today, check out the Facebook page here: https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Run-For-Boston-417/613135315380603?fref=ts . Simply take a photo of our yourself before or after you run with a sign like mine: “Run for Boston” with your location and 4/17 and upload it to their page. Maybe it’s not doing much in the grand scheme of things but when it comes to terrorist acts like what happened on Monday, I firmly believe that this is one of the best things we can do — show them that love and courage will always win in the end.

And hell, a good run will make you feel better, too.

The Permission Slip

When I first separated from my ex I didn’t give a lot of thought to the fact that I would likely one day find myself as part of a blended family. And yet, almost five years later, here I am. Blended? Uh…yeah.

It took CBG and my girls a while to find their way together. This was made more challenging, of course, by the fact that CBG lived three hours away and usually visited during our “alone” weekends together when the girls were off with their dad. It was tough for the three of them with this obstacle before them, but over time, their relationship grew. When we told them that CBG planned on moving here to be with us, they were happy and excited to have him here.

Still…their growing relationship has been a bit tentative for all of them. I’ve done my best to keep my distance and allow them the space to figure things out, simultaneously worrying about whether they’d be able to do it, and feeling confident that they absolutely would.  In some ways it was tough, giving up control and just letting them figure it out, without meddling. I love all three of them intensely, and so of course I want them to develop a strong and loving relationship. And in the past 6+ months since CBG moved here, I’ve watched them make a lot of progress.

And then, the other week, in one small little gesture, I knew that we’d finally gotten there. We were in the middle of our usual morning hullabaloo, getting everyone ready to get out the door on our way to work and school.

Kiddo appeared in the bathroom doorway as I was doing my hair.

“Mommy, I have a permission slip here, I just got [CBG] to sign it, since you’re busy.”

The smallest of gestures, so casual and yet it spoke volumes to me. It showed that she sees CBG not just as my husband-to-be, but as a parental figure and her stepdad-to-be. It was one of those small moments that in a blended family, feels like the world. Because it’s all these tiny little moments that add up to make a new family. It confirmed my decision to take a back seat in their budding relationship and just allow the three of them decide how they wanted things to progress. Because when this moment came, this tiny little moment, it was natural and just not a big deal at all.

Exactly the way I  hoped it would be.