Theory of an Ex

Despite all the bad history between myself and Brad, I will always care about him. Same goes for John Black. I may not always be in contact or lunch buddies or bowling friends with them.....but part of me is always going to want good things to happen to them. Eventually. I would be lying if I said that I hope Brad doesn't first get slightly miserable, realize that I was right about everything in his life after all, and humbly apologize with just a little sheen of moisture in his eyes. Ahhhh....sweet vindication.....

To me, it seems more abnormal to hate an ex than to care about them. After all, this is a person that you were once in love with - you had to have seen something good in them at one point, right? And as much as we would maybe sometimes like it to be true just to feel better - all the good parts about our ex's don't just vanish because we aren't with them anymore. (I mean, of course, the best part does vanish - me - but there are still other good parts left) In my case, Brad and John Black were both people that I wanted to raise kids with, people I let into my life completely, people that I let see me in sweatpants with frizzy, just-washed hair....I don't feel that way about just anyone. If I once thought they had so many good parts that I would let them in like that, then how can I sit back now and say what an awful person they are and how I wish evil thoughts on them? I can't. I know that I poke at Brad quite a bit because he really has changed so much, but I am sure that underneath all that new, crappy attitude he is sporting...those good qualities are still there - and hopefully, for his sake, one day resurface.

This view has caused some friction in my life at points. Being friends with an ex can be uncomfortable at many points and straight up frustrating at others. It is strange to see them in other relationships at first and it just takes time to draw the new lines of what your friendship is going to be. It is a much more difficult process than normal friendship for a while, until you get to that place where you do see them as strictly a great friend. But it is so cool to end up with a friend that knows you that well - and it is nice to be able to look back on the past and fondly remember the good things because you have dealt with all the crap. John Black and I are still friends. Not hang-out-and-grab-dinner friends, but catch-up-on-life-every-so-often friends. And that is plenty for us. I know that if I ever needed him he would be right there for me - and I would do the same for him. Brad and I are friends from time to time, but we have discovered that the lines of our new friendship work best when we don't really talk. However, I also know that he would always be there for me if I really needed him. Neither one of them is someone that is going to be consistently in my life, but I find it impossible to hold on to angry, bitter feelings. Not only impossible, but unproductive. The only person I hurt with that kind of attitude is myself anyway if I let it fester. For me, clearing the air and getting some space from both of them helped me to see objectively. And now I truly do wish them both every shot at happiness that they can find in the future. I am sure that somewhere out there is the perfect woman for them. I am equally as sure that woman is not me.

Unanswered Prayers

I hated this song when my marriage broke up. Mainly because it was something I didn't want to hear. I can be (ever so slightly) head strong, and I didn't want to hear that things may have been working out the way they were supposed to be. I wanted God to immediately fix the little world that I had built. No questions, no discussions....I had suffered enough, let's get on with it already.

I had an extremely difficult time trying to figure out how letting go of my marriage and keeping true to my faith worked together. Was all this nonsense just a test that I was supposed to pass? Was God just seeing how faithful I would be? How willing I was to embrace the 'or for worse' part of my vows? It was hard for me to wrap my Catholic head around the idea that God would want me to let go and move on with my life. So I spent countless hours praying....for myself, for my marriage, for Brad, for answers. And rarely did I pray for things to just work out how God wanted. I prayed for my life to fix itself the way I wanted. All I wanted at that time was my life back. I didn't care if it was hard, or it was flawed. I meant my vows and I was okay dealing with the problems because that is part of marriage. So this Garth Brooks song talking about how unanswered prayers are best got me all riled up. I didn't want unanswered prayers with vague ideas of a better future out there someday. I wanted answered prayers, a remorseful and healed husband, and patience and faith for me to deal with what my life had become. I got none of those things. (In fact, I think God took patience away from me so I had less than when I started.) Instead my husband became worse, I lost complete control of myself and the situation, and my faith was completely shook up. However....

Apparently the song is correct. I think sometimes it is impossible for us to accurately judge a situation when we are right smack dab in the middle of it. Now that I am through the worst of it I am just thankful that God didn't answer my prayers, that I wasn't stuck in that life for the rest of my lifetime. Life is suddenly now opened up in front of me and full of possibilities that I had thought were long gone. Once I got over being terrified about being without a plan, it was amazing to think of all the things I could do now if I wanted. I could completely change my life to be something more representative of who I really am, more true to the kind of person that I really want to be. And I can do that with someone that values that about me, instead of merely tolerating it like Brad and John Black did.

I am not going to say that Chet is my future for certain or that things worked out this way just so we could be together. (of course, I'm not ruling it out either) It is way too early to be creating concrete plans. I still don't know what he likes on his pizza - and that could honestly be a major deal breaker. But if God would have answered my prayers back when my marriage fell apart - then I wouldn't have the chance to find out. I would've thought that my marriage was as good as it got and missed out on these fantastic last few weeks. Chet would have been just an old acquaintance from school that I ran into once in a while when I went out for a bottle of wine. And that would have been too sad for words. So I will take my chances on a less than certain future, have faith that God will put me exactly where I need to be, and maybe sing a little Garth in the shower tonight.

Guest Starring......Lola

***Welcome to Divorce Isn't For Sissies newest feature....guest bloggers. While I was writing many of my different stories, I would think about the people that came on this adventure with me and all the different perspectives that they would have on these events. Sure, I tell you things how I experienced them...but other people may have a different take on how things played out or remember different stories that I could have completely forgotten about - like Lola's mention of the bathroom door, for example. Lola and John Black screamed so loud and so crazy that night over a box of Cocoa Krispies....it seems so ridiculous now, but at the time it was a monster fight through the bathroom door. Funny how time changes the way we view things, isn't it? Anyone else that was part of my journey that wants to share is welcome to as well - I'll even give you a fun alias! To start us off, here is our very first guest blogger.....Lola.***

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I have been given the privilege and honor to write a guest blog for your entertainment…believe that I have some inside knowledge in the subject of said blog, and therefore some very juicy stories. But, alas I have been given guidelines which prevent me from divulging (and also from cussing) about certain activities including stalking, property damage and …er, nevermind… forget those last items…

I will never forget turning the corner into her drive soon after Brad f.., ahem, I mean, screwed up. She was hanging out the window of the kitchen ½ a story up smiling at me. This maybe should have tipped me off for the journey ahead. As I rounded the privacy fence, she poked out the window again with a large pitcher of water, and again a smile, and poured it down…onto an enormous pile of Brad’s most treasured possessions. I laughed and suggested we get the hose.

The series of debacles that followed were heartbreaking and hilarious at the same time. Although I openly objected to Johan Black and all he (didn’t) have to offer our jaded heroine, he did give her a lift of self esteem that was seriously needed at that juncture in her journey. Johan & I drove each other crazy. I remember episodes from when the 3 of us were living together involving bathroom doors (only one existed in the house), parking spaces (who wants the street?!?), groceries & animals where I could have easily committed homicide, hid his body, washed my hands & played dumb for the rest of my life. I’m proud of our heroine for not doing the same to both of us; sure we drove her nuts, too.

Johan withstanding, we had a lot of fun thanks to good friends, booze & boys in the months following Brad’s downfall. Dancing like idiots to burn off beer calories, outwitting unsuspecting boys in any game we knew we could win, making new friends & reconnecting with old ones…Lots of changes in the last few years have turned us from unsure, naive twenty-somethings into responsible, confident women. And it’s been FUN in spite of the so-called tragedies in between.

So…Chet. You have seen a good portion of this go down, you know what you are getting into. But if you f…um, mess, with my heroine your referrals will take a hit! Kidding, if you want to gum her collarbone (clavicle technically) it’s ok with me.

Love,

Lola

Get Married? Again? Maybe....

I just started reading this book called "Committed" and it is the follow up book to "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert. To begin with, if you haven't read the first one, go get it. It is a very touching, amusing, readable story of this woman's attempt to find herself after divorce. I promise, it's good. The first word of the book is 'eat' - how could it not be good? Any woman that starts her journey of self exploration with carbs is a friend of mine! Anyway....she just published this next one, and it is all about her study of the institution and application of marriage. She and her boyfriend, through circumstances they can't change, are getting married even though both are highly against the idea of remarriage because of their own previous divorce horrors. This story is her struggle to make peace with that.

This is the one issue that I have never worried about at any point in the aftermath of my divorce. I know that many people do, of course, and I completely empathize with that distrust of something that has caused you so much pain. In my case though, I don't blame marriage for all misery....I blame Brad. And to some extent, myself, for picking a partner so badly. (Although mostly Brad) The problem I had was the person I picked, not the circumstances. Nothing in our marriage vows caused our problems, the institution of marriage didn't whisper in Brad's ear that he should go boink a trashy waitress. No, marriage was not the problem. Brad was just not someone that could withstand life standing next to me - and I blame myself for not seeing that, for thinking that I loved him enough for everything to work out. Love may make the world go round....but love alone does not make a marriage work. Hard work, faith, shared values, patience, common goals, commitment, toe curling sex, and a little bit of love....those things make marriage work. And I picked a boy that couldn't see those things through.

So instead of questioning the institution of marriage, now I just question my judgement. I am not afraid of remarrying, I am afraid of picking badly again. What if it is me that is broken? What if I do this all over again just to find out that I am back in a relationship with a man that doesn't value me and my beliefs and my dreams? I love writing this blog but I do not want to be sitting here in three years writing about why two divorces suck worse than just one. I want to be sitting here sharing stories of how phenomenal my life is once I picked the right man, sharing my success stories.

My dating choices seem to reflect this inner struggle. I would date a rocker boy that loved to show me a good time, but that didn't know if he wanted kids and was estranged from his parents. Instead of seeing this as a sign to get out, I saw it as a challenge. Hmmm....how can I reunite him with his mom and expose him to kids so he sees that he really does like them but has just been repressing it for years??? (yes, I know I'm a fruitcake) Post divorce I was so afraid of being alone that I let many bad choices linger far longer than necessary. And, of course, immediately following that bad choice I would swamped with guilt and rage at my own personal stupidity - so I'd go hunt for a nice guy. You know, the guy your mom will love that is responsible and happy to sit for hours and hold your hand. That guy. They are out there. So I would find a nice guy and try to atone for my preoccupation with the previous bad boy by being everything this nice guy needed. Except...I would get antsy. If he was a fanatic about keeping his car clean, I would drop stuff on the floor to see if he'd yell at me. If he wanted to hold hands and watch a movie quietly, I'd whisper dirty stuff in his ear to see if he'd be shocked. I am just not cut out to appreciate a straight up nice guy. I need him to be a little bent.

So, while I admit to being a bit wary of remarriage, it is really just my own judgement that scares me. But I have to believe that as I get older, I get smarter about my choices and clearer about what I want out of life. Having a failed marriage just lets me see all the things that are important to have in place for another one. It's like I get an extra study guide on what not to do. I have to have a bit more faith in 31 year old me, than in 25 year old me. 31 year old me knows to say no to the bad boy and to say no to the nice guy. I'm holding out for the man that wants to visit my parents house for an afternoon - and still waits to catch me in the hallway to make out for a few minutes while no one is looking. When the nice guy with the wicked streak asks me - I won't be afraid to consider saying yes.

Welcome 2010!

Happy New Year everyone! Here is my list of tentative, possibly achievable goals for 2010.

1. Research school options for child related careers and/or invest a ton of time, money and energy into daycare. I truly love kids and no matter what the pay scale, I know that it is something that I will be happy doing with my life. When you work with kids, you know that what you doing is really making a difference in our world - you are helping to create the next generation! And the smile of child has to be one of the purest things that life has to offer. I really want to try and find the right path for me into helping kids in the best way that I can.

2. Keep my Jeep clean. I know that this one is almost certainly headed for the 2010 Fail list BUT...I think it important that I give it a try. I feel like less of an adult when I open the back hatch and pop cans fall out. I am thirty years old, I should be able to put all my groceries in the back without having to juggle five coats, a set of golf clubs, seven books, about 23 different types of windshield scrapers, empty large, McDonald's Diet Coke (caffeine free!) cups, and a partridge in a pear tree. In 2009 I did manage to keep the front two seats and, for the most part, the back seat clean. I even consistently had a trash can...however it was too small to fit more than one of the aforementioned Diet Coke cups. If I can master the cargo portion of the vehicle I may be able to call myself an adult by this time next year. I am thinking of creating a laundry basket sorting system back there....

3. Ignore Brad for at least 75% of the year. This is a pretty attainable goal. I think I ignored him for a good 50% of this year, so I am just building on my previous good work. This sounds heartless, but here's the deal. Brad has crossed a very dirty, morally blurry line....and I am 95% sure that he is never coming back across again. Now, because I am Pollyanna I am going to leave that 5% loophole open in the hopes that he will realize what he is doing to himself....and that is also why I am going to give myself a 25% leeway to be there if he truly needs me. That is just the girl that I am. But for my own sanity, and because I hate to see him the way he is now....75% of this year will be Brad-free.

4. Use my elliptical machine. Notice that this goal is very flexible, very loosely worded. I don't like to set rules that I know I am going to break. My elliptical machine and I go through spurts where we are friends and when we are bitter enemies and when we are hooks to dry sweaters on.....actually that last part is just me. So the goal is purely.....get on the machine. Make it worth the money that I spent on it. Be healthy so that I can one day play tag with my grand kids. Provided that I have kids of course. This part is also important because Jen and I want to be polka-dancing, drinking Busias together when we are old. Thus I need prodigy to call me Busia. But that is a goal for a whole other year.

5. Blog daily and update my status twice daily so that everyone knows everything about my life. Ok - that one is purely a joke. Don't rush to delete me from your friends.


6. Be patient. I am so impatient sometimes for what tomorrow may bring that I am afraid I am going to miss all the stupendousness (spellcheck insists that this isn't a word. I respectfully disagree) that is today. I think that a lot of this is from being single. It is easy to feel like life is going to pass you by if you don't pair up and procreate - and being divorced just ups that pressure more because now I have to fall in love and marry twice while all my smarter friends are only having to do it once in the same time period. But I need to have faith that God has a plan for me. And it will all happen when it is supposed to, with or without my impatience. I might as well enjoy the ride.

With that said, this is my mantra for 2010, brought to you by the book of Jeremiah:

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.....you will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart."

When I am impatient and trying too hard to make a future appear now, on my time table....this is what brings me back to earth. Faith that God has a plan for me. That He has put things in my path that have purpose...for me, or for others...and that if I keep the hope that He has given me, all will unfold exactly as it should, exactly when it should. All I need to do is keep the faith.

My (possible) Flaw

If I have a flaw, and I'm not saying that I do but it is within the realm of possibility, it is that I am too naive. And by naive, I don't mean that I am oblivious of the fact that evil exists and that people do bad things. I mean that I simply think that it is all happening with people that don't enter my life. Because of course, all the people in my life are evil-free.

Because I persist with this Pollyanna belief, I frequently give people the benefit of the doubt, sometimes even when they haven't earned it. Actually many times when they haven't earned it. I try very hard to not be judgemental and to remember that people have all kinds of experiences that I am not privy to, so maybe there is a good reason that they are doing something asinine and I just don't know. I used to drive Brad crazy when he would be in the middle of some road rage fit and I would wonder out loud if maybe that driver that just cut us off was really speeding to make it to the hospital to say goodbye to her dying grandmother. Or that it was an expectant dad late to meet his pregnant wife after her water broke. Or something equally out there and unlikely, but possible. It never calmed him down, but I like to think I made my point. (As I write this he is probably driving around somewhere screaming obscenities at little old lady drivers for being in the fast lane - but like I said, I am Pollyanna so let me believe my daydream)

I know that this doesn't at first sound like a huge flaw. And it really isn't a flaw that hurts anyone else in any way. It actually is usually pretty helpful to others. It is actually helpful specifically to the owner of a dark blue Vibe that cut me off last Wednesday (you know who you are....Euclid...Fisher...sparkling bright red Jeep? Ring any bells?) It is also typically beneficial to people that mess with me because I am quick to forgive and don't hold grudges. And then I let the same people mess with me in the same way and then - again - forgive and forget. Can you see how this may not be beneficial for me? Flaw.

But here is the thing. I secretly ( or not so secretly, since I am blogging it all away) love this about myself. I know that it gets me into trouble from time to time. I know that it makes me trust the wrong people and have faith in things that maybe most people would not. I know it is the reason it took me five years to get over this failed marriage and that it may have cost me a great relationship. I am aware that some people think it is naive, and silly, and even stupid. Just because I have this perspective doesn't mean that I am unaware of the flip side of the coin or oblivious to the fact that some people will take advantage. They do. And I know when then do, for the most part. But I can't bring myself to be any other way. At the end of the day, I only have to live with the decisions that I make. The way I look at it I have two choices - I could wallow in the negative and cynical all day, every day and maybe avoid getting hurt...OR... I could dwell in the positive and happy all day, every day and maybe get hurt. I choose option two.

Success Stories (For JAG)

So a comment was made on my last post about how I seem to be dwelling on the failures and mistakes that I have made, when I should be crowing about all my successes. Let me leave you with no doubt - I definitely crow about my successes people. There just seems to be much more humor in the failings - and I am someone that can see the funny, even if it is at my expense. But in the interest of balance, here are my favorite success stories - post Brad.

Buying my Jeep. Now, just to be clear, I am NOT a car girl. I don't like anything to do with it really, and more often than not, I still try to sweet talk my brothers or my dad into changing my oil or my windshield wipers. Also, I have been letting my younger sister Libby 'practice' pumping gas since she was about twelve. Mechanics and I are just not close friends. When Brad and I were together, he always decided on our cars because he was car crazy. The only comment I ever made was that I really like the Jeep Cherokees - but Brad vetoed, and I pretty much forgot about it. Until we split. And he started stealing my brand new Grand Prix from my work and my driveway with the help of these hip, fun (immature, stupid) new friends of his that thought his wife was a real drag. Then I decided why not let him keep it? And the four hundred dollar payment it came with as well. He really didn't think that one through very well. So he ended up with all the car payments on all our vehicles (I admit that I got some joy out of this) and I went out and bought a bright red Jeep Cherokee. Which I still have and love today. I love it so much that when it gets creaky and arthritic, I am just going to buy a new one just like it. Success.

Painting my house. Now even I can admit that taking the house on by myself just so Brad wouldn't move some girl into my old home was mostly error. I have many more fail stories about that than successes. EXCEPT about this. I am a phenomenal painter. Really. My dad is a handy kind of man - and I think that parts of that must be genetic because I really like to paint. Here is the only rule: I need to be painting an actual color. Brad was a huge fan of beige, beige, beige.....we painted our bedroom the softest blue that I think they can make and that was out of his comfort zone. The rest of our house was various colors of tan, paneling, or old lady wallpaper left on from the previous owner - who was, in fact, an old lady. When Brad started fooling around, my sister and I began. We stripped the bathroom wallpaper and rag-rolled lilac on purple everywhere. We replaced the floor and re-finished the countertop. And it didn't stop there. My bedroom went pink with these great billowy, flowery curtain that looked like a rose garden - supremely girly. My kitchen became fire engine red with walnut trim and cupboards. My living room carpet got dragged to the curb so that I could play with the original dark wood floor underneath and then I painted all the walls and old, dark paneling this bright, warm, sunflower yellow. There wasn't a neutral wall left in the entire house and I loved it. It was completely me by the time I was done. Success.

Finding out how to do it all on my own. And here is the secret to this one. I don't really. But I did need to learn how to manage my life when it was only me keeping track of it. Do I still ask for help? Of course! But I don't need a man by my side to make sure that I get it. I have the strongest support system of friends and family that a girl could ask for - and now I am smart enough to ask for help if I am out of my league. Prime example. Yesterday my furnace/boiler (yup I have no idea for sure what is down there - and I'm not ashamed) was acting up and my house was freezing when I woke up. I have no clue why or how to fix it. Before eight in the morning, three people offered up their houses for me to take the babies to for the day. My dad left work to come over and check it out. Another friend called me before lunch to hook me up with a guy who could figure it out for me quickly and with a good deal and offered to call him up for me. My brother got out of work and told me to call him if it didn't work when I got home and he'd come figure it out. On the way home, another friend gave me the name of another good service man who was trustworthy and told me to call him if anything didn't work out and he'd come look at it for me. This is all within the space of about eight hours. I have truly amazing people in my life (Love you all!) and what could have been a huge stressful event became a minor inconvience for the day. A few years ago, this event would have destroyed my whole week - at a minimum. I would have been a basketcase, thinking this was one more example of how my life was broken now without a husband. One more sign that I coudn't do it alone. Looking back, I have such compassion and sympathy for that version of myself - almost like I am looking at just some random person that I wish I could help. It is nice to see how far I am from that place. If I were still with Brad, I would still be that girl. Standing on my own two feet - Success.

Trial and Error

For me, life after divorce is very much trial and error. There really almost isn't any other way it could be. Because I married Brad so young all of my adult dreams, goals, and ambitions were OUR goals, dreams, and ambitions. I never bothered to create any dreams that didn't include him. (Go ahead and lambaste me all you feminists, but be kind and remember I was young and naive please) When we split, I didn't just lose Brad, but I lost my roadmap of how my life was supposed to unfold, pretty much dumping me in the this alternate Bermuda triangle world that I was completely inept at navigating. As time went on, I learned through trial and error what things worked for just me - not me as half of StephanieAndBrad - but me only. For the first time in pretty much forever, I had to think somewhat selfishly and figure out what worked for me in decisions big and small. Along the way were some pretty funny errors.

Letting my gas tank get perilously low while just expecting some miraculous husband stunt double to come running and fill it - Error.

Continuing to run my checking account like my ex was still paying my bills and the rest was just 'spending money' - Error.

Thinking I am super cool because I can eat dinner at ten o'clock at night if I want now - and then getting sick at two in the morning because I am too old for pretending that I still have the iron stomach of a twenty year old - Error.

Believing that my grass will just stop growing once it gets to a certain height and then stay that way until winter so I don't need to mow it anymore - Error.

Really believing that single men are interested in a tour of my house because they want to see what I've done with the place - Error.

Thinking that once we were split, all the drama with Brad was at least finally over - Error.

Using the strategy of staying in my house all day as a way to make a day never happen - Error.

Throwing out all my dishes in favor of paper plates because it would make life easier and less stressful - Error.

Trusting my feelings and thoughts to people that I only saw when I was drinking or dancing - Error.

Saying exactly what I thought, exactly when I thought it, to any random stranger to emphasize how much better stark honesty is - Error.

Continuing to try new things, forgiving myself for my (many) mistakes, laughing at life and those many mistakes, and believing that life truly unfolds that way that it is meant to be.....I'll get back to you...

I Call My Guardian Angel Delilah

I sometimes think that I am really wearing out my guardian angel. All the other angels are floating, singing, and keeping half an eye on their charges. Mine is the one charging around, dripping sweat, and cutting deals with other angels to keep me in one piece. (Which I so appreciate, by the way, Delilah)

Last week was a toughie. ( I wish that I could insert music notes in here and fake sing the "iiiits a tough-ie" television jingle at this point, but I am not tech savvy enough to pull that off.) I mentioned that Brad was on my shit list last week one day - and now he has climbed to the top of the list, picked up all the other candidates and thrown them off the list. He wants the list all to himself apparently. One of the cons of being in touch with an ex is that they really, really know how to push your buttons. Thus why I should remove my buttons from his reach really. Again, lesson learning the hard way....

So, after my buttons were pushed I proceeded to follow standard operating procedure and make a few bad choices. We don't really need to get into those exact choices, I am all about not embarrassing myself further than I already have to this point. Although I will say that pizza really doesn't qualify as a bad choice if you take it ingredient by ingredient. Just saying. And I do wish that over indulging in pepperoni was the worst of my bad choices. Unfortunately.....no. However, let's not dwell on my idiotic moments. I already paid my price for my mild debauchery. (It was roughly eighty bucks and about two hours of time that, sadly, I can never get back.) After a suitable wallowing period, I am moving on...

And here is my moving on song. I have a hard time forgiving myself for my mistakes - which would probably surprise my exes since I do tend to always think I am right. This song is by a Christian group called Point of Grace called 'Heal the Wound'. It just reminds me that we are all only human. We all make our own mistakes, learn our own lessons, and then build on them to become the person we are meant to be.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hy7I5gMEKEQ

.....hmmm, I tried to embed this but, as previously mentioned, tech savvy I am not. You will just have to old-fashioned cut and paste - enjoy!




I used to wish that I could rewrite history
I used to dream that each mistake could be erased
Then I could just pretend
I never knew the me back then

I used to pray that You would take this shame away
Hide all the evidence of who I've been
But it's the memory of
The place You brought me from
That keeps me on my knees
And even though I'm free

Heal the wound but leave the scar
A reminder of how merciful You are
I am broken, torn apart
Take the pieces of this heart
And heal the wound but leave the scar

I have not lived a life that boasts of anything
I don't take pride in what I bring
But I'll build an altar with
The rubble that You've found me in
And every stone will sing
Of what You can redeem

Heal the wound but leave the scar
A reminder of how merciful You are
I am broken, torn apart
Take the pieces of this heart
And heal the wound but leave the scar

Don't let me forget
Everything You've done for me
Don't let me forget
The beauty in the suffering

Heal the wound but leave the scar
A reminder of how merciful You are
I am broken, torn apart
Take the pieces of this heart
And heal the wound but leave the scar

The Annulment: Do I or Don't I?

That is the question. For today anyway.

Here's the scoop. This blog will be equal parts funny and contemplative. This blog will not be factual or referenced or anything other than my feelings and opinions on the annulment process and my place in it. No hate mail from anyone because I question Church policies, including my mother. Especially my mother. (Mom, that includes guilt emails as well just in case you are wondering. My mother wields guilt like Thomas Jefferson flourished a quill. Love you Mom!) I have many different thoughts on whether or not I should go forward with the annulment process, so buckle up and get ready.

First, an amusing side story. (You know you love my tangents!) Brad has always opposed us getting an annulment. He just doesn't like the idea of us saying that our marriage wasn't valid. Which I find half sweet, because he doesn't want to pretend it didn't happen - and half hypocritical, because if he wanted it to be so valid and real then maybe he should have thought of that earlier and matched his actions to that sentiment. Back to today. I text messaged Brad to ask if he still would try and thwart my attempt to get an annulment because I have plans to meet with my priest and I just wanted to know where Brad stood, so that I knew the whole picture going into this meeting. In what is a very typical response, I don't get an answer, just a bunch of questions and sass. And he calls me Jen. Now, I knew that eventually he'd find his way here to my all knowing and all telling blog - and I'm ok with that. (Hi Brad! :) ) I am not embellishing anything or telling any lies - I am just telling my side of the story, and he is welcome to read if he likes. Here is what I found funny...he called me Jen to be snide and mean spirited...but I think it's great! Thanks for the compliment! Jen is gorgeous, healthy, sexy, and frankly...awesome! In fact, I think she is way more amazing post-Brad! So Brad dear, feel free to call me Jen whenever you like.

Ok, slightly off track....anyway the end result of my mini-text-a-thon with Brad is that he tries to tell me that if he agrees to not oppose the annulment, we're even. Even?? Really?? And yes, he is serious. He really thinks that by not fighting me on this, that makes up for everything that has happened. Now, I am not going to tell you all of those things that have happened because this blog is not about making Brad look evil. I am just going to tell you that in my book an affair that pretty much tornadoed my life does not equate with not fighting me on being able to remarry in church some day. End result? I tell him to do what he wants and I continue on my evening of endless errand running. You really don't need a partner's cooperation get an annulment, but it might the process a little harder. But hey, I always do things the hard way anyway, right? Gotta keep with a theme....

So there is the amusing portion - now on to the tougher stuff. Here are my reasons FOR getting an annulment:

1. I truly believe that I deserve one. I honestly did everything I could think of to try and make my marriage work. In the end, you need two people trying, and nothing that I could have done was going to change the end result. I should get points for effort though.

2. In an ideal world, the owner of a pair of fantastic shoulders that I meet is going to be Catholic. He may very well want to be married in the Church and I want that to be an option for him.

3. It is important to my parents - which means it will ease their minds and pave the way for my future hunky shoulders husband. Less conflict is always good.

BUT....here are my reasons AGAINST the annulment:

1. It is a very intrusive process. I need to give complete strangers all the inner workings of my failed marriage and our childhoods. This includes details and my feelings about everything, including our sex life. This makes me uncomfortable, to say the least.

2. I do not want to dig back into all the heartbreak of the past. We have been split for over five years, and it took me a long time to deal with all of it. I truly don't want to have to experience and examine all of those emotions over again when I feel like I have finally really made my peace with it all.

3. I don't necessarily agree with the entire idea of annulments. At least not the process the way it is. I have two points on this and then I'll subside. First, the Catholic Church let me get married purely on the basis of a baptismal certificate and a one day Engaged Encounter seminar. That is all I had to do and I was ready for marriage in the eyes of the Church. But to UNmarry I have to basically expose my soul to perfect strangers and await their judgement. It seems to me that this is a little bit unbalanced. My second issue with this is that my relationship with God is highly personal. He knows better than anyone the ways that I tried to twist myself to make my marriage work - and I don't believe that He needs an annulment paper from the tribunal to see what is in my heart. This whole process just feels judgemental to me - which should be the antithesis of Christian living. This is really a sticky issue for me, because I don't want to go through this whole process for the sake of other people's thoughts and beliefs. I need to see how this is going to continue to move me forward, and right now all I see is how it is going to take me back.

So I'm going to tackle it like I tackle everything in life - find more information. Whenever I start any new project, hobby, and travel plan - I research. I know, I am such a nerd. But a book in my hand and facts in my head make me breathe easy. So that is my plan forward....research, research, research....and hopefully find a way forward.

The Story of John Black

John Black is the man that I probably should have met in a year or two. Of course, I actually met him roughly six months after Brad and I split and I really don't regret it. It is just that I think any relationship that follows so closely on the heels of a ruined marriage is doomed. And ours was. In so many ways he helped me heal and move on, but it was totally at the expense of our own relationship.

If you ask John Black, he will tell you that I am amazing. He will tell you that our relationship crumbled under the weight of dealing with my family and Brad. Of course, he probably would use different word choices than the ones that I just did. And he's right. My family was a big factor, but while I accepted it, he couldn't. He just couldn't see past the moment to realize their point of view.

When Brad and I split, it didn't just affect me. It affected my family, too. When Brad and I started dating, my siblings were young. My baby sister was only two when we met. In a very real sense, he was like a brother to all of them. Then suddenly not only was he not around, but he had done some truly awful things that they just couldn't believe he had done. It was hard to handle. Adding to that was the realization for my parents that I was going to be divorced - which is no small deal in my family. The whole breakdown of my marriage was so fast that it stunned everyone. In December of 2003 Brad and I were trying to get pregnant. Two months later I find out about his affair. December of 2004 was my first Christmas with John Black, who I had met December 4th. It was a lot to ask my family to process and probably too much for me to handle - in hindsight, of course. In the moment I was just so happy to have found someone when months early I had been terrified I never would. To me, John Black filled in every missing piece that I had. But I wasn't ready. And that is truly why it failed. So Lesson 34 about life after divorce - don't rush into another relationship. You may ruin something that could have been amazing if you would just have waited.

Even though it didn't work out, I have amazing stories about John Black - some of which I will share eventually and some of which I will hug to myself. Here is my very favorite story - one I bet he wouldn't even remember but I always think about this as a turning point in my life. First journey back with me briefly to Brad - when he admitted his affair he told me it was my fault. He told me that he just wasn't attracted to me because he liked petite, short, skinny girls - so he just had to have an affair. That sounds so ridiculous now- I have never been petite or skinny and yet he married me. And I guaranty there was no attraction problem. But back when he was telling me this, I was already so beaten down that I just accepted it. I remember feeling so awful about myself for a long time, thinking that if I had just been skinnier then he wouldn't have cheated. Bullshit, of course, but I wasn't rational.

Fast forward to John Black. We are laying in bed in comfy clothes on a Sunday afternoon watching football. We are cuddled up and he moved his hand to rest on my stomach - of course I immediately tried to move it to some less jiggly part of my body. He asked me what I was up to, so I told him it made me uncomfortable to have him touching my flabby belly. He pulled my shirt up over my stomach and laid both hands on my belly and told me to stop being ridiculous, that he loved my belly because it was part of me and he loved me. I will stop the story there because I am sure you don't need to know the rest, but his complete acceptance of all of me was something I never had with Brad - ever. And that one comment has stayed with me always. And yes, I realize it sounds completely corny, but it is completely representative of my relationship with John Black. Despite all the nonsense and the way we ended up - we both truly accepted each other for who were were, flaws and all. It was a lesson I needed to learn. John Black - you are a good egg.

The Loss of the Secret Keeper

So last night I had a big secret. A secret of monumental proportions. A secret that was threatening to explode my brain if I didn't talk to someone as soon as I could get my hands on my cell phone. As soon as I left where I was (which I'm not telling because it's a secret of course) I immediately grabbed my phone to call.......no one.

Being married automatically gives you a person to tell everything to. (I completely just ended that sentence with a preposition, but I have always hated that rule anyway and couldn't come up with a better way to finish it quickly - so deal.) No exceptions. When they say "for better or for worse" that also means "and with all my good gossip and juicy scandals". It is unwritten, understood marriage law. Everyone who has been in a serious relationship knows exactly what I mean here. Brad and I had zero secrets (other than the whole affair of course, small peanuts really) and our end of day recap before bed regularly consisted of swapping stories about people that we heard throughout the day. On a small tangent.....you would think that because I am the woman that I would be the big instigator of this tradition - you would be wrong. Brad gossiped like a little, old, blue-haired lady at the hairdressers. Anyway, anything that was told to either of us was fair game to the other one - without exception. We may not have admitted that to every friend or acquaintance, but that is how it was. And it wasn't just a random habit between Brad and I - my following relationship with notorious John Black had the same deal. We were a team - and as a team we had an obligation to share information. Because I was with Brad for eight years and then on and off with John Black for three more years - this is really the first year I haven't had an official secret keeper.

The hard part about having a secret keeper when single is that secret keepers really can't be just good friends. Especially good married or dating friends. And here's why: They are already some one's secret keeper! They already have allegiance to someone other than you. They are bound to share all good gossip and juicy scandal with that person. (see above) Therefore YOUR secret is now shared material. There is no way around it - that is the code. I can call up one of my sisters or friends and share my dirt BUT they are completely going to turn around and share my dirt with their husband or boyfriend. Which is how it should be, but it makes it hard for a single girl to find a good secret keeper. In the past I have used Brad as a temporary secret keeper, but not only is that probably not very healthy but he is also on my shit list this week - so no big secret for him. I do confess to venting to John Black this morning a bit, but he does have a girlfriend so I can only carry that so far before I feel like I am stepping on toes. So the search is on for a new secret keeper, preferably one with great shoulders. I am thinking of holding auditions.....

Pollyanna meets Midland St.

To say that I was unprepared for dating after Brad would be a gross understatement. Every unscrupulous man in the bar that was worth his salt had me pegged as an easy target the minute I stepped into the building. Maybe the minute I stepped out of my car actually. The root of my dating hilarity is all because of this. Half my dating after divorce stories wouldn't even be funny if I were a typical jaded barhopper instead of the starry eyed optimist that I was - and let's be honest - mostly still am.

Here's the background. To begin with, I was the oldest child of an extremely protective household. Other kids in high school had curfews - I didn't go out. I didn't party, I didn't drink, I didn't date. That does sound like my parents locked me in a dungeon, but in reality I was just cocooned from many things that other kids experienced in high school. (Thanks Mom by the way. I DO appreciate it now that I am older and fully intend to torment my own children in exactly the same way one day) BUT....this did not make me a very informed dating diva.

Act Two: I meet Brad my senior year. We fall in passionate teenage love. You know, the kind where you think if you don't see each other every day you will literally die. Simply stop breathing if you can't breathe the same pocket of air. Every teenage cliche? Completely true. We were so silly sometimes. I remember standing in front of my parents house next to his dad's truck one night when he dropped me home. We were crying (oh yeah...brad too...he was a weeper at one point before he went AWOL ) and we were crying because - get this - basketball season was starting. Yup. Because with his practices, we wouldn't be able to see each other every single night and we were worried as to how we would ever make it through. Well, we did survive basketball. Just not waitresses and hormones.(that was slightly snide but it made me giggle a little so I'm leaving it in) So Act Two ends with me falling in love with my first real boyfriend right out of high school.

Fast forward five years and we are dodging rice hand in hand as we run to the limo. Actually, you can't throw rice at weddings anymore, did you know that? Apparently it's bad for the environment. (Isn't it a plant? How can this even be really? ) I just used that first line to paint a typical wedding picture so you knew where I was going. In reality we walked pretty slowly to the stretch expedition that Brad insisted on having because he wanted to use his cane. (yup, cane...complete with top hat AND white gloves....see what a good wife I was?) Anyway...way off tangent here. The point of this is that I married my highschool sweetheart and pretty much avoided the entire dating circuit and barhopping initiations. When everyone else my age was figuring out where their limits were and how to step over them, I was setting up my 401K and making mortgage payments. (Although to be fair, Brad was in charge of that since I am pretty much awful when it comes to managing my money)
Add into this mix the fact that I am, at heart, the kind of person that wants to believe the best about everyone - and you can imagine the experiences that I had when I finally took my first steps on the dating scene. But you don't have to! Because I am going to tell you most of them eventually! Lucky you!

The person that had to have enjoyed these first few weeks the most must have been my sister, Emily. It really must have been somewhat like watching a toddler play in traffic when we first started going out. A toddler that was slugging on Jack, of course, because that's how Polish toddlers roll. I remember my first inkling that this may not be the spot for placing unearned trust. Emily and I had been dancing at Westtown in Bay City - and we had met a handful of men towards the end of the night. Last call came around and these guys kept talking about after parties and I was all for it. Because at this point in time, my only goal was to put off going to sleep until I just fell over exhausted so I could mark one more day off my calender. So I offered up my house and started talking about playing cards....now, I meant play cards. Euchre, smear, go fish... They thought I meant "play cards", so there was understandably some confusion when we all ended up back at my house and the night didn't end the way that they had imagined. To this day I still am not sure if Emily was aware of the misconception all along and just enjoying my Pollyanna outlook and the guys reactions. Needless to say, I learned fairly quickly to be extremely specific in my conversations from that point on.

I would like to say that this was the first and last time that I was naive and trusting of the wrong people, but then I wouldn't have more stories to share later, would I? While my outlook did get me into situations that could have turned out better, that is part of who I am. I wouldn't change it if I could. The difference now is that I acknowledge that there is a way a situation could go bad - but the Pollyanna in me is still rooting for the happier ending.

Can Brad and Jen really ever be friends again?

Is it true? Do we really believe all the gossip about Brad and Jen being secret buddies again behind Angelina's back? (I told you I read all the gossip mags with Jen on the cover) Do we even believe it is true that ex's can be friends? I am uncertain.

Technically, I am friends with my Brad. By 'technically' I mean that it depends on when you ask me. We split almost six years ago now, and in the intervening years we have ignored each other, been best friends, wanted to strangle each other, engaged in some drunken reconnecting....all trying to find a balance in what we are. (Ok, maybe the drunken reconnecting was less about balance and more about familiarity and Jack Daniels...but the rest of it? That is all about balance for sure.)

Funny situations pop up when you are friends with an ex - and by funny, I mean funny to me. Brad usually doesn't find them funny at all. Here is one of my favorite examples. Brad and I separated six years ago but our divorce was just final a few months ago. So to annoy him, when we would hang out and run into people I would introduce myself as his wife. Technically true, but no one in his modern day life even knew he'd been married because Brad is a consummate manipulator of the truth. So he tried to pretend that I didn't exist and in return I would smile, shake the hand of some girl he was interested in, and introduce myself as his wife. See? I find it funny. Brad....not so much.

Another funny situation? Every time Brad and I hang out, we run into a member of his family. It's almost to the point where we are walking into a restaurant and we can make bets on which cousin we will see that night. I am sure that his family for years has probably thought that we were pretending to be getting a divorce and secretly still together. (Except his sister of course, because she gets to hear my rants when he really pisses me off) Now if I am alone, I never run into these same people, only when we are together...life is just funny.


In all honesty, I don't expect that Brad and I will stay friends once either of us finds themselves in serious situation with someone else. I did have a pretty serious boyfriend after we split up and when I was with him (let's call my boyfriend John Black, for reasons only known to him and me) Brad and I were out of contact except for extreme emergencies. And it was good. I was happy and content without the ex-friendship of Brad. Since John Black and I parted ways, my friendship with Brad has started again. But I think it is pretty obvious to both of us that we are just each other's back up buddy. Being friends with someone from your past means that you are constantly reminded of all the things you did wrong then and the kind of person that you were then. (And I don't know about y'all, but I was pretty naive and pretty silly back then. I am way cooler now!) All the things that we had in common before are pretty much gone and our friendship is almost solely fueled by a shared history. Anytime I think that anything is different about him, I am disappointed. In the long run.......yeah, still uncertain. I better call Jen and ask her what we should do.

Trailblazing....

As the first divorced person in my circle of people, I had to learn all my divorce lessons the hard way. (Which is usually how I learn my lessons anyway - ask my parents) I now consider myself an expert - especially since I have been mired in this experience for five years - so here is the Top Ten list of things I wish someone had told me.

10. You have to empty the lint trap in the dryer - even if it was your husband's job before - or you will likely set your house on fire. Or at a minimum, your dryer will stop drying and start smoking. Also, there is a drip pan under your refridgerator, a water shut off valve in your basement, and a filter in your furnace. Good to know.

9. You don't need 99% of the things that were stored in your garage. Keep the lawn mower, a rake, a shovel, a hammer, and a few screwdrivers and give the rest away. If you can't get the job done with those things, then it's not worth bothering with - all that other junk is just stuff men collect to fill their garages and make themselves feel like Men.

8. Don't stalk your ex. All you do is learn stuff that you don't want to know and that isn't helpful. Also, you waste a bunch of time that you could be using for other important things, like shredding the clothes he left in the closet.

7. Even though it has wheels, the trash can does not propel itself to the curb on trash day. Sadly.

6. Karma will come back around. Repeat that as often as needed until you feel better. Or until your cheating ex gets cheated on by the woman he was cheating with. That will be a great moment for you. I promise.

5. It is incredibly satisfying to throw everything in your house that belongs to your ex out the window onto the ground. Include all his clothes, childhood memories, collectibles, electronics, and anything else that you won't use. To kick the pleasure up a notch, turn the hose on and water it all down. Now, I know you are thinking that only crazy people do this and surely you will regret it one day. Take my word on it - you won't. In fact, five years down the road it will still make you chuckle out loud.

4. One day you feel empowered. The next day you will feel like a failure. The next day you will feel like superwoman. The next day you will feel beaten down. The next day you will feel hopeful. The following day you will lock yourself in the house like a hermit and eat Cocoa Puffs all day. All of these are acceptable. Prepare to feel like a manic depressive for a little while. Hang on and enjoy the ride.

3. Do not, under any circumstance, watch romantic comedies. They unravel all your progress, make your brain turn to mush, and cause you to make many errors in judgement. They also give you many mistaken expectations about the dating world that you are about to enter - but that is a story for a whole other blog.

2. Do not expect to come out of this unscathed. To say that I have regrets from this time period in my life is like saying that there is sand in the Sahara. BUT....forgive yourself, accept that everyone handles problems differently, and keep on truckin'. The people that care about you will understand.

1. Lean on your people. It will keep you from crossing over to the dark side....well, most of the time. Or at least it will give you a friend for company as you play there. ( thanks Emily) Also, in my situation, it meant that I didn't have to cook for a long time. (thanks Mom)

Pertinent Information...

Welcome to my blog! The place where I get to say anything I want about everything I want without anyone stopping me! Hmmm....the potential for disaster here is huge, isn't it? Actually, I am going to keep these blogs fairly limited to a specific topic - so I am not really going to talk about everything, BUT I reserve the right to, if I want.

Divorce is the single most awful thing that has ever touched my life. I could look at it as a terrible thing, but I really look at it like I've been pretty blessed. Not that divorce really isn't awful, but so many people deal with things that are so much worse than this; disease, death, handicaps, poverty...I could go on and on. The thing is that when you are going through divorce, you can't see that perspective. You are completely mired in yourself and what you are going through. Selfish? Yup. True? Also yup.

I can't write about all those things that are worse than divorce because thankfully I have limited knowledge on those kinds of topics. So instead I will just share my awful, and many times, amusing divorce and post divorce stories; because those are what I do know. Hopefully those of you that like to follow my rambling posts will enjoy and maybe my perspective will help someone else out there realize that there is light at the end of the tunnel. Really.

I don't know exactly what direction this blog will go, but here is what I don't want it to be - a reason for you to sit and shake your head at your computer at how sad this is. Parts of it are sad, but many other parts are funny, introspective, enlightening, and empowering. This part of my life is only one small part. It doesn't define me, it just is one thing that helps shape me. I am blessed with an extraordinary family and fantastic, supportive friends that lift me up much more than this has dragged me down. I have a roof over my head, food in my kitchen, and money in the bank - which is more than the majority of the population, even here in the United States. When the bottom dropped out my world, I had people there to pick me back up - and for that I am very grateful.

Because this blog is going to annoy my ex-husband, and because I think it's fun, I am going to give him an alias. Obviously, those of you that know me fairly decently will know who he is, but at least I'm not throwing his name out there into blogosphere for all the world to see. So from now on, my ex-husband is *Brad. And here's why - (prepare yourself for the first of many mildly amusing sidenotes) My ex-husband cheated on me at approximately the same time that Brad Pitt cheated on Jennifer Aniston. So Jennifer and I are divorce buddies. BFF's, really. Except, of course, she doesn't know. But once their story broke, I clung to it like a drowning sailor because - thankfully - I wasn't going through this alone. I had Jen. I will to this day still buy any gossip mag at the checkout at Meijers that has a Jen story on the cover. A few months ago, there was an online poll about who wore their little black dress better - Jen or Angelina. I voted for Jen 159 times. (I was just too tired to vote once more to make it an even 160.) So to reel in my tangent, in honor of my (in my mind) BFF Jen, we will rename my ex - Brad.

So that is my opening story - the tale of Jen and I. I have many more to come.....strange divorce moments, full out hysterical tales of re-entering the dating world, the story of night Emily and I almost became sailors....and how through it all, my guardian angel was putting in some serious overtime.