zena musings

Flashback 15 years: Marriage, divorce and healing

Fifteen years ago I was laying on a rose-strewn massage table. It's my wedding day. I never expected to get married. Never wanted to. But I'd fallen in the kind of love that feels permanent. For the first time I'd found someone I wanted to commit to.

Like us, our ceremony and vows were unconventional. Drums beat, sage burned. My gay boyfriends walked me down the makeshift aisle in our backyard. Our dogs carried our rings. A dear friend, an ordained Catholic nun, officiated. We promised to be together as long as it served each of our highest good. And for 10 years we were.

Our marriage ended five years ago. As separations go, it was amicable. He helped move me to Spokane. We vacationed together that summer and even spent Christmas together. Bittersweet. Even though I'm now grateful a hundred times over, letting go was an excruciating process. Everything about my life changed. My home, my community, how often I saw my dogs (we shared custody for years), my comfort zone. I was lost and fragile.

For months I couldn't even say the word divorce out loud. When the Marriage Dissolution papers arrived in the mail, I realized how insignificant -- like signatures on a marriage license -- paperwork is. That's neither where our relationship came together nor fell apart. I remember pulling them out for a friend who was spinning out over her own separation saying, "This little 1/2-inch stack of paper? That's all a divorce is. Your relationship still exists, just in a new form. Stop scaring yourself with words." Ha! Exactly what I needed to hear myself.

For a good long while I was angry, hurt and resentful, but that shit's toxic and I stayed committed to my spiritual path. No matter how I felt, I went through the motions of right action. Naturally I licked my wounds raw time and again but mostly I acted as if this was God's will for me. I practiced trust, sometimes well, sometimes crappily. Lots of f-bombs in my prayers those days. Slowly a new life unfolded. New friends. New community. New activities. New everything. Better everything.

My ex and I were estranged for a while. A tough yet absolutely necessary gift. Fire purifies. Today we're building a new friendship. Our lives are progressing exactly as they're meant to. I absolutely love the woman he now shares his life with, and their nutty Dobie.

Healing takes time and dedication. It takes willingness to be really uncomfortable (not my strong suit!) and do awkward stuff like gratitude lists, socializing and being in this moment on a continuous basis. Fortunately I'm surrounded by lots of wise women (and men) I'm willing to listen to and accept direction from. They've never steered me wrong.

Recently I was clearing out old paperwork and stumbled across my divorce papers. I don't need these, I thought. I inhaled with a new awareness and freedom. I don't need these. So I shredded them. Not with animosity or vengeance, simply with release.

The past is over.

Today I'm alive and free in ways I never dreamed possible. I absolutely LOVE my present and I'm excited beyond measure for the future.

But I went through hell to get here. The secret? I kept going.

An Invocation for Beginnings, or "Let's start this shit up."

I'm scared. I'm scared that my abilities are gone. I'm scared that I'm going to fuck this up. And I'm scared of you.

I don't want to start. But I will. This is an invocation for anyone who hasn't begun, who's stuck in a terrible place between zero and one.

Thanks to my friend Olivia for sharing this truly fabulous invocation. I'm posting it so I can watch and believe and internalize it again and again, as I start some of my own shit up! And so you can too. I think you'll love this...

The new is always present with the old, however hidden

I am a frayed and nibbled survivor in a fallen world, and I am getting along. I am aging and eaten and have done my share of eating too. I am not washed and beautiful, in control of a shining world in which everything fits, but instead am wandering awed about on a splintered wreck I've come to care for, whose gnawed trees breathe a delicate air, whose bloodied and scarred creatures are my dearest companions, and whose beauty bats and shines not in its imperfections but overwhelmingly in spite of them...

– Annie Dillard

(Photo taken during this afternoon's walk.)

The Real Woman Creed by Jan Phillips

I believe that within me lies an extraordinary radiance, and I commit to letting my light loose in the world.

I believe that the source of my power and wisdom is in the center of my being, and I commit to acting from this place of strength.

I believe that I possess an abundance of passion and creative potential and I commit to the expression of these gifts.

I believe that the time has come to let go of old notions and unhealthy attitudes, and I commit to re-examine what I have been told about beauty and dismiss what insults my soul.

I believe that negative thoughts and words compromise my well-being, and I commit to thinking and speaking positively about myself and others.

I believe that young women are in need of positive role models, and I commit to being an example of authenticity and self-love.

I believe in the relationship between my well-being and the well-being of the planet, and I commit to a life of mindfulness that regards all living things as holy and worthy of my love.

I believe it is my spiritual responsibility to care for my body with respect, kindness and compassion, I commit to balancing my life in such a way that my physical being is fully expressed and nurtured.

I believe that joy is an essential part of wellness, and I commit to removing obstacles to joy and creating a life that is full of exuberance.

I believe that a woman who loves herself is a powerful, passionate, attractive force, and I commit, from this day forward, to loving myself deeply and extravagantly.

(Words by Jan Phillips. Self-portrait by my beautiful friend Julie. Special thanks to my friend Mary.)

Truth-Telling and Bloodletting

This morning, a one-two punch.

First, hearing news that "should" be positive, simply left me sad. News that shouldn't surprise me, nor sadden me, but it did and I don't have to figure out why. Years ago I learned to simply let my feelings be what they are. Feelings don't want my clever analysis, justification or intellectual acrobatics. They simply want the soft warmth of my lap. To be allowed. To hear the words, It's OK. I understand.

Second, inadvertently winding up on the skirts of the hate group WBC's protests and counter-protests at Gonzaga and Ferris. Several friends are counter-protesting around the area, and I applaud them. I know myself well enough to know I'm not emotionally or energetically equipped to attend counter-protests, be involved in political movements, or do much in the way of activism other than live my life openly and honestly.

Already a bit shaky, I read their hateful signs, literally using the word HATE, bringing tears to my eyes. I am bewildered. I don't understand hate. I'm proud of the people in Spokane's community who counter-protested with beautiful signs, kindness, music and peacefulness. I belly-laughed when I heard them play "You've Got to Change Your Evil Ways." I honked and waved supportively at them, the best I could do.

I knew I needed a drink from the well, so I went to an AA meeting. Relief. As always, I got what I needed and heard what I needed to hear.

Here's what I know:

This life is mine. Ultimately, it's the only thing that is.

What happens in anybody else's life is none of my business.

Others come and go. Vows or blood, nothing and no one is permanent.

Letting go is a process.

What's right for you isn't necessarily right for me, and vice versa.

Self-worth comes from within.

I want to paint my bedroom.

Some days are sadness, some days are joyful. Some days are both!

I wasn't born with much emotional insulation. I tire easily. I need plenty of mental and physical rest. This means saying no to some things I'd rather say yes to.

I am doing my best to love what is and to focus on what's ahead of me. What I love today: Garden carrots and Concord grapes from Mom. My recovery peeps. New fleece sheets. Love in the streets. Big candle orders. T minus 48 hours 'til the Gonzaga women's basketball pre-season scrimmage! Leftovers. Silas. Acceptance.

Daily

 
These shriveled seeds we plant,
corn kernel, dried bean,
poke into loosened soil,
cover over with measured fingertips

These T-shirts we fold into
perfect white squares

These tortillas we slice and fry to crisp strips
This rich egg scrambled in a gray clay bowl

This bed whose covers I straighten
smoothing edges till blue quilt fits brown blanket
and nothing hangs out

This envelope I address
so the name balances like a cloud
in the center of sky

This page I type and retype
This table I dust till the scarred wood shines
This bundle of clothes I wash and hang and wash again
like flags we share, a country so close
no one needs to name it

The days are nouns: touch them
The hands are churches that worship the world

–Naomi Shihab Nye

Photo by algo.

When hope is easier said than done, a thread to hold onto

From the truly amazing and inspiring Jen Lemen, on a day I feel empty (again) and wonder (again) whether my life is winding down. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Maybe it isn't for me to question, much less know. Maybe I simply need to hush the questioning, and act as if I'm meant to thrive.

how to start over by maya stein

 
1.
resist the temptation to wipe the slate clean entirely.
you cannot do this.
you are where you are.
but you can dust. you can mop. you can cleanse your belly
of all the heavy cheeses you ate at last month's holiday parties.
you can initiate the day with decaf.
you can rake four batches of leaves from the lawn.
you can sing, loudly, in the car to no one
but the man on the radio who is singing with you.
you can decide that the apple pie you are craving
will not come from your hands, your oven, your kitchen,
but from the bakery aisle at your neighborhood grocery.

2.
ignore the titles from the self-help shelves and glossy
women's magazines, with their sound bytes of colorful insight.
you do not need a makeover, a diet, a religious conversion.
you do not need to get more in touch with your feelings.
you do not need potassium, or St. John's Wort, or a colonic.
you need a walk, communion with shore birds, a rainstorm,
a glass of wine in front of a fire, lip gloss, a whole evening
of the novel you read only incrementally, at night, before bed.

3.
ignore the calendar, the clock, the larger itineraries
ticking their niggling bits of time.
you will sleep when you need to.
you will know when it is time for water, for a shower,
for a phone call, for a kiss, for solitude, for Indian food,
whatever nourishment you need for your throat, your ears,
the palms of your hands, the hunger just under your skin.

4.
imagine, despite your unbearable faults and fissures,
you are still a thing of beauty, a rare creature, a snowflake,
a singular, spectacular atom circumnavigating the tangled astronomy
of your life the only way you know how.

(Photo by sungazing.)

Sacred Life Sunday: A New Normal

My favorite stretch of the Flathead River between Perma and St. Regis

Yesterday I drove home from a spontaneous trip to Montana. I needed to be with my family at our annual reunion. Being there was surprisingly healing and definitely what Lucy would have wanted. I both missed her and felt her presence, especially by the river and in her corner of the couch. My good girl. I left while I still felt OK, before I hit the skids. I'm learning to spot my limits on the horizon.

Sadness comes and goes in brief yet powerful waves. Smiles followed by anguish buying dog food at Petco and writing beans on my shopping list. (Beans is one of Lucy's nicknames.) All these firsts, which I'm trying to not make such a big deal of, because I can slip into tormenting myself. But sometimes they rear up on their own. Notice me, they demand. Feel me.

Mostly I'm hanging in there. Taking care of myself. Taking care of Silas. Somewhat taking care of business. Not pushing it. I've given myself permission to let my feelings be, without judgement. Even letting moments of inner peace and joy have their time onstage guilt-free.

On a positive note: Silas is now with me permanently. No more shared custody. I have full custody of Silas, and God has full custody of Lucy and Elliott. (Until I join them in the spirit world.) It's a new chapter in my life, one I would gladly exchange for one that still had Lucy written all over it. Never before have I sensed the transience of everything. It's just for now, I tell myself. This separation. This missing-ness. This everything I can and cannot name.

So. Today. A blazing hot Sunday afternoon. Silas has a Montana hangover and is flat on his couch with a fan blowing on him. My evening includes banana pudding, Mad Men and an abundance of gratitude.

Day by day, whether we like it or not, we're forging a new normal, because that's how life goes on. With the custody decision, something has shifted and settled. It's Silas and me. Relieved and grateful. Tentatively excited to gently explore and discover what's next.

Sadness, Grace & the Healing Power of Ice Cream Sandwiches

 zm workerbees Max and Abby with Silas

Today's blessings and thoughtfulnesses...

A 2-hour backyard picnic prepared entirely by Abby, dedicated to Lucy. On the menu: pasta salad, turkey sandwiches, sun tea and homemade ice cream sandwiches. Lucy would approve. At one point I realized I had actually forgotten I was grieving for about 5 minutes. That is Grace.

A morning visit from Dad.

Sharing about Lucy at my noon AA meeting. Most important, how I'm certain the prayers, love and support I'm receiving from people like you are the only reason I'm not a complete wreck, even experiencing fleeting moments of peace and acceptance. So many people have connected with Lucy and are loving her, Silas and me. Blows me away. There is a Power greater than me at work here, and every single one of you has a part in it. Thank God for Facebook, AA, friends and family. Thank God for you.

A phone call from my young friend Danielle inviting me for a swim at Liberty Lake. I couldn't go, but I was deeply touched by the invitation.

Picking up my Valley Girl Triathlon race packet and having Martina lob the brilliant idea for Lucy T-shirts! Motto: Live. Love. Lucy. Now I just need someone to design them.

So, all things considered, a fairly OK day. Lots of lovey time with Silas. Mornings and evenings are the hardest for us both. Sometimes it already feels like I haven't seen Lucy in months. :( But I feel her presence, hear her "voice" (she has always had a LOT to say :)) and am really looking forward to Tuesday's session with Polly.

Not exactly enthused for Sunday's triathlon, but I've put in the training and know I'll feel differently once I'm milling around with 500 women on the beach. Sometimes no matter what you feel, you've gotta just suit up and show up.

Besides, I'm doing it for Lucy -- who loved to swim, loved to run and loved to bark madly at bicyclists. She would most definitely approve.