A Start

 I haven't written because there's been so much to say and not enough time to write all of it. But my therapist says I'm setting to lofty a goal. It's ok if all I write is one word. So for tonight I'll just say I've started the healing process. And I know I need to be patient, but I told my friend last night that I've been patient for four years waiting for things to get better, but they never did, they just got different. Not that there weren't some things that were better, but it feels like I've topped out and that "better" isn't on the horizon but in the rearview mirror. I know that's not true, but it's how I feel right now. Later when we were talking about something else that had gone wrong, she said, "Aw, don't worry, things will get different." It gave me a good laugh that I really needed. I think I'm going to make it into a shirt.  

Smiling on the Outside

April 14, 2022

I got a complimentary text from my mentor at work letting me know that the founders appreciate my joy and optimism that shows through in Webex. 

Guess I'm a better actor than I thought.

Not that my job isn't the highlight of my life right now. So grateful for it. But I really don't know how I'm going to be able to put on a happy face for a whole workday when we go back to the office in two weeks. 

Yesterday I had my headshot taken at the Nelson-Atkins Museum. I met a few coworkers in person for the first time. As an extrovert, being around people usually energizes me. But I just felt anxious and insecure the whole time I was there. I can't imagine how difficult re-entry has been for introverts who already struggle with social situations. Praying return to office life goes well.

May 13, 2022

Saturday before Easter (April 16) was a crazy busy day. I picked S up from a sleepover, then grabbed R and we went to look at a house that was for rent nearby before heading to the neighborhood Easter egg hunt. Then S & I took R to get her ears pierced and then rushed to an open house before it ended at noon. On a whim, I put in an offer before heading to a going-away party for a friend who moved to Michigan last week. That night my realtor called and said they accepted it, and I was under contract. 

I flipped out. 

I've been very conscientious in this house hunt to seek the Lord's will. Every time I've considered putting an offer on a house, I've prayed about it, slept on it, sought counsel. This time, I just made an impulsive move. And I only offered $15k over asking. Which made me wonder, why didn't anyone else make a higher bid. What's wrong with this place? WHAT HAVE I DONE?

My friend talked me off the ledge and made the valid point that it was just good timing being Easter weekend and likely not many people were househunting. And getting it for that price in the neighborhood we're in was a literal miracle. It's not perfect - it's not a ranch like I wanted, it needed a new roof, which the sellers replaced, and I'll want to pull out the carpet in the bedrooms before we move in, but all in all, it's a sound decision.

So the last month has been spent in the terrifying inspection, frustrating negotiating and desperate financing of this house. My ex and I had just started splitting up the assets, so some of it was done with cash and the lender didn't accept that as part of my down payment. So my mortgage finally got approved last night - 8 days before closing.

Other major happenings in that time were that S made the varsity dance team, R had her choir concert which was the first public performance at the school since COVID, and V had his piano recital and started spring soccer with I9. It will likely be the last time we participate in I9 Sports. The kids have been in activities with them for 10 years. A crazy milestone. The return to office was wonderful, and I continue to love my company.

The biggest news, though, was on April 28 when the memory care center called to let me know they were bringing in hospice for Mom. It's been over 7 years that she's been there, and I've been praying for her to be freed from this poor quality of life, but it hit me unexpectedly hard. Knowing hospice can last months, my sister and I anticipated Mom would hang on awhile - she's a tough lady. But I got a call this morning saying they were starting continuous care, and it would be soon. I told my mentor I was going to be with my mom but would keep working, but didn't want to join a team call that was happening. Just can't keep that smile on today. But when I got here, my hotspot wasn't working consistently, and my sister is driving in from St. Louis, so I just took the day. Praying she has safe travels here, Mom goes quickly and peacefully and I stop crying - at least until I get somewhere I can take this mask off. 

Househunting in 2022

Photo by Tierra Mallorca on Unsplash

Over 100 listings reviewed.

Over a dozen homes visited. 

Two failed offers submitted.

In less than four weeks. 

I lost out on both bids because I only offered $25,000-$35,000 over asking and required an inspection. The winners offered twice as much over asking and waived an inspection and an appraisal. The only way I can afford to bid $50,000 over, is to look at houses that are $50,000k under my budget. Options available in that price range are abysmal. The one I looked at yesterday was on a main street with crazy traffic and a cracked foundation that clearly had been leaking water under the paneling so it was warped and ruined and the floor was stained. And those were just the top two negative aspects. 

So I've put a pin in my plan to move to a permanent home and started looking at rental options. The first 3 bedroom townhome I visited is $2200/month. That's $400 more than the mortgage I had budgeted for in househunting. 

I know God has a plan for something better for me and his timing is best. Just wish it coincided with my timing.

Splatter

While warming up a frozen dinner last night, I heard a loud pop - the universal sound for The Sauce That Was on Your Ravioli is Now All Over the Interior of the Microwave. I sighed, resigning myself to the chore of cleaning it. The thing is, the little oven was already kind of messy, but I'd been ignoring it, waiting for an inevitable explosion that would warrant my attention. 

As I was scrubbing the turntable, I thought, sometimes I deal with life, relationships, the same way. I ignore the little splatters because I'm too tired to deal with them in the moment, or don't know how to address them, or hope someone else will clean them up, maybe even that they'll magically clean themselves. Sometimes they're small enough and I'm in the zone of my hustle and bustle that I don't even realize they're there.

The big blowups can't be ignored, and I usually stop what I'm doing and clean them up right away. But in doing so, I find the scrubbing is needed on those small blotches that have been left to sit. It's always easier to clean them up as soon as they happen than it is to wait. When neglected, they harden. And get crusty. And take more effort to fix than if I had worked on them right away. 

I finished wiping down the last of it and closed the door, vowing to be more proactive in the future. It's something I think I'm working on being better about in my relationships, too. 

1st Anniversary

Photo by Cade Holmquist on Unsplash

Last Saturday would have been our 17th wedding anniversary. I knew it would be hard, so when my girlfriends started talking about a weekend trip to the Ozarks, we set it to take place then. 

We had a fun and relaxing time hanging out on the screened-in balcony, working on a puzzle, walking by the lake, listening to 80s music and comedians. 

It was a good distraction, but there were still moments when memories snuck up on me. While washing my hands, I looked in the mirror and thought, "This is about the time I was getting my hair and makeup done." The tears came. I gave them their moment, and then moved on. 

My friends listened and supported and advised and encouraged and nudged. They helped me figure out my budget for househunting and come up with Plans B and C in case Plan A wasn't in the right timing. I felt less anxious by the time we left.

This is one of many firsts in this new phase. Some will be welcomed, some will be dreaded, but all will be survived.

Vent

Photo by camilo jimenez on Unsplash

One of my best friends from high school texted our group chat this morning to let us know she was in the hospital. She had a mild heart attack.

She's doing ok.

I'm definitely not ok. I feel like such a jerk making this about me, but I hate that this is the phase of life we're in. I texted my sister and told her it's probably just PTSD from our dad. I've been dreading turning 48 this year. That's how old my dad was when he had his first heart attack. I know I can do things to guard against it, but pandemic divorce life was not conducive to healthy living for me. 

Another facet of it is my frustration with my ex. This is the kind of stuff we were supposed to face together. I'm pissed at him for not being here for these kinds of things. Not that he was great at that while we were married, honestly. 

That's all. Just needed to vent, and now I'm done. And I do actually feel better. Onward and upward. 

Double standard

Checked the first box for "Divorced" Tuesday. I knew it would happen, just didn't expect it to be so soon.

And, of course, I cried. 

Went to the OBGYN for my yearly the next day. The nurse asked if my marital status was still separated, and I said, "Actually it's officially divorced, as of Monday." She asked how it went, and I told her fine, but it's been a hard week. 

And, of course, I cried. 

She left and came back with this mini Hershey's bar, gave me a hug, and said it was fitting and chocolate makes everything better. 

It did make me smile. 

Unfortunately, over the last two years, there have just been a lot more tears. Which anyone would say is understandable. The world as we knew it ended when the coronavirus pandemic closures began. My husband immediately shut down and avoided the kids and me - while quarantined in the same house for three months. He wouldn't talk about it, except to say that he was depressed. I was so worried. That summer he made his first statement that we should divorce, and in the fall he moved out. On top of that, my job was deteriorating, and I had no hope of finding a new one while on lockdown. Plus, that year I was functioning as a single parent and trying to work full time from home while doing remote school with a kindergartener, 4th grader, and 7th grader. 

I had high hopes for 2021, but they were shattered within the first couple of days when my husband finally admitted he'd had an affair. The next day I got sick and it turned out to be COVID-19. After recovering, I told him I was willing to do the work to fix our marriage if he was. He didn't know, wanted time to think about it. Ultimately, we made the decision to divorce almost one year ago - March 20. But it took this whole time to get through the logistics and mediation and be able to begin exiting a weird limbo. I kept thinking. "I just need to reach point X in time, and I'll be ok. I'll start to feel better. I won't want to cry in the middle of the day." I really dug into prayer and my Bible and that is what sustained me, being rooted in the knowledge that I am a child of God and loved by Him and he's got me - no matter what. I tried to get outside for fresh air and exercise on really hard days. I tried to eat better on weeks when I was at the apartment. I did have two very big blessings last year – an amazing new job and a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to go to Kenya for a missions trip. 

The new year brought some hints at closure as we set the apartment lease to end June 30 in anticipation of the divorce being finalized and our nesting arrangement ending. But winter dragged on and my car needed new wiring. Then new rear brakes. Then new front brakes. My finances have become tenuous, and I'd hoped they'd be robust as I begin researching mortgages and moving options. Russia invaded Ukraine. Through a ministry partner at church, I'm helping with refugees locally as well as updating our mission team's social media with news from their front lines in Poland. There was a shooting at a local high school last week.

In short, life is stressful. And depressing. So when the OBGYN asked if I'd like some medication to help with that, I said yes. 

I've long been a proponent of mental health care and not being afraid to ask for help and that medication is great. But I've never been one to ask for it for me. Because I didn't need it. I have joy in my heart. I know how to address the factors that affect my mental health. And I felt like a failure admitting that wasn't enough. Which is the opposite of what I tell everyone else! The devil is doing his best to get me, but I'm letting God fight him on my behalf. Enough of this double standard. It's another new in my life, and I'm embracing it.