The Rules #11: If it’s Plug-and-Play, it isn’t a real relationship. It’s you, avoiding yourself.

 

the-rules-11-post-divorce

This one might seem a bit harsh. Oh, well. (Sorry?) I’ve got nothing new going on in my life, so I’m back to dishing out my own perspective. (On the other hand, I’ve got a few blog posts backed up inside me. Time to get them out. ūüėČ ) On this Rule I gotta say, I’ve met a lot of guys in the above boat, and I just don’t understand it. How can anyone go from a long-term marriage, straight into another “big relationship” with no serious, personal-assessment period?¬†Okay, yeah, I know – everyone jumps into the water and “dates” right after divorce. It’s kind of a rite of passage. But going right into the next long-term thing, no downtime, like it’s plug-and-play? No way. If you don’t stop and figure out what went wrong, and admit that you’ve changed, you’ll make the exact same mistakes as before. Simple math, right? (This is why I won’t even give a second thought to dating guys who are separated, and not yet divorced. Tried that once – got fooled into it – thought he was divorced, at first. Tried to be open-minded. Turned out to be a bad situation.) The point is: something was f-u-n-d-a-m-e-n-t-a-l-l-y wrong in your marriage, and you’ve got to figure out why you went down that road. And also: what road do YOU want to take in the future? (i.e. Who are you? Hard question, I know!)

Full disclosure: I’ve got a bit of a personal stake in believing that this is all correct and true. I was “replaced” before my divorce was even final. It stung. *understatement* And they’re still together. All in all, I don’t really care – we weren’t right for each other, among other things. My ego, however, would like to believe that it would’ve taken more time for someone to whom I was faithfully married for 22 years to get over no longer having me in his life. Guess I didn’t really impact him that much. Or… maybe he’s like those other guys I’ve met, who haven’t ever woken up and stopped to figure out who they are, and plug-and-play is the easy way to avoid doing the tough, uncomfortable work of taking a long, hard look at yourself. Hmmmm….?

I may never know the answer to what was in my ex’s head. But I’ve taken the long, winding path to figuring out what’s in mine. And I’d be lying if I told you I hadn’t changed as a result. I’m a different person now than I was, on the path that led to my¬†divorce. Hugs to my fellow truth-seekers;¬†peace to those of you still struggling to wake up – fight for it, even when you’re scared. You’re worth it! ūüôā

Things That Won’t Make Me Popular: #1 – My 2016 Election Conspiracy Theory

election-2016It’s not a secret that I’m not a fan of voting. I deliberately did not register to vote when I moved back to Colorado in 2012, I advocate against it, and encourage people, instead, to go give blood. (You will save up to three lives with one blood donation, whereas if you vote, it will mean nothing, because the system is a big setup to pacify the masses and make them think they’re making a difference.) But I’ve had this new theory since before Trump won the primaries, and the people with whom I’ve shared it have grudgingly admitted that it might hold water.

It begins in the ’90s. Remember Whitewater? The land-fraud scandal that rocked the (Bill) Clinton administration? People had begun mysteriously dying around D.C., including James McDougal, who had been in jail suffering the brunt of the heat from something that also implicated the Clintons. But¬†before he could testify, James suffered¬†a fatal heart attack. There were widespread rumors that James’s wife, Susan, had had an affair with and was still in love with Bill. The Monica Lewinsky-thing was also happening at the same time. Bill’s presidency was going down in flames. And then there was Vince Foster – remember him? He was a D.C. insider who reportedly knew some dirt on Bill, and he was also allegedly Hillary’s lover. Then he suddenly turned up dead, under “mysterious circumstances.”¬†[This part is all true, or else was rumored to be true at the time. I didn’t make any of that up. This next bit is where I start to fill in the blanks with my theory:]

So anyway, people are dropping like flies to cover up Bill’s illegal crap, but there are a few people Bill can’t kill. Like his own wife. That would’ve been way too obvious. However, Hillary was pissed: why did all of Bill’s lovers get to live – even Susan McDougal, who knew as much about Whitewater as her husband had – but Hillary’s one dalliance had to be among the¬†“offed”? She threatens to divorce¬†Bill, which would mean she could then be forced to testify against him. So Bill makes a deal: he’ll get Hillary the one thing she really wants. Power, of the Oval Office-type. Using his leverage and popularity, he first helps her score the Senate seat. But when they go for the Big Cheese, in 2008, they get blocked by Obama. So they change tactics. They call in a favor from¬†their good friend Donald Trump. [It’s widely accepted that Trump was good friends with the Clintons, and that he’d even donated money to Hillary’s campaign in the past.] Trump’s job is to divide the Republican party, thus blocking any “real” contender from swimming to the top. He does this, successfully, by making a complete clown-show of the race. (Anyone disagree?) He manages to divide the party enough to win the nomination, and has now proceeded to say the most outrageous things – always at a time when Hillary seems to be getting negative press. But Trump is a straw candidate, so that’s his job: to make Hillary look good. Or at least like the lesser of two evils.

This is not a true election – not with only one actual candidate. It’s a game for Trump – a bored billionaire, who is helping his friends, whom he wants to win. It’s a joke, orchestrated for years, at the highest level. Even Trump has now started shouting about the system “being rigged.” Is he saying this to deter us from what we all already suspect is true? Well, he would know. If Trump wins this election, it will prove my theory wrong. If Hillary wins…. well, I won’t be surprised.

I’ve figured out why the wind scares me

1-29-13-Storm Over Farm - Decatur, Texas

I was going to post this another time, or maybe not at all, but I had this epiphany about a month ago after some deep introspection, and… well… it’s eight o’clock at night, and it’s raining now….

Over the past few months I became aware that I would cringe from the wind — the more powerful, the worse it felt, especially at night, when I was alone in my apartment. This was not a behavior I’d always had. In fact, I’d typically always been a bit of a weather-junkie. But now, the sound of wind whistling too-fast through the trees, or howling into the eves and between the nooks and crannies of my old apartment building would produce a curl-in-a-ball response from me. (I could make myself be brave if I had my kids that night, but if I was alone, all bets were off.) I didn’t even realize I was doing this¬†until I’d already written about it in my RFQ.

“…seeking someone who is reasonably geographically nearby, and who keeps similar wake/sleep hours, and who can come over and hold me on rough nights. Like when the wind is scary.”

Since becoming aware of this, however, I¬†knew I had to make¬†myself take a hard, honest look at why I’d become afraid of the wind. I mean, it wasn’t¬†like I had some bad-wind memory that I’d lived through. I’d never been in a tornado or hurricane. I’d never even lost a friend or family member to violent weather.¬†Then, during my ponderings, a¬†random thought hit me and “clicked true” as soon as I’d thought it: This¬†was because of my divorce.

Or, rather, because of how things went down at the end of my marriage.

When I learned my ex was cheating on me, found the love letters, it opened up a chasm inside me that I didn’t know existed. My legs literally gave out, and I collapsed, sobbing on my bedroom floor.¬†My arms gripped tight around my ribs. It felt as though the pain would rip me apart from the inside, and I was trying, somehow, to hold myself together, to contain this impossible, desolate despair inside a small, human, skeletal frame. As I was feeling this¬†worst-imaginable-pain-ever, smaugI was shocked that the human body could contain this magnitude of grief. Surely I would have exploded, had I not held onto my ribs…!

Which brings me back to present-day, and the wind.

It’s been three-and-a-half years. I’ve come a long way since then. But not long enough that the echoes of needing to hold myself together are not able to be threatened by the groans of a 20+ year-old¬†apartment building, as it stands up to powerful gusts — especially common in Colorado, in the spring. It will dismantle my home; it will demolish me. It will rip me apart from the inside….

That’s why, it turns out, I’m afraid of the wind.

Now I know.

And now that I know the root of that fear, I can begin to face it.

harry potter vs dragon