Mother, Life Coach, Financial Analyst

Jen and I went to see Psychic Andy (http://www.andymyersonline.com) on Friday for a Gallery Reading. I had no idea what that was and was excited to see.  A disclaimer, I'm not sure what I believe about psychics and ghosts and heaven reaching through a medium to deliver messages, but why close out something that could be helpful.  End of disclaimer.

What happens is that there were about 90 people in a room and Andy opened the floor for questions. I couldn't figure out what question I wanted to ask but 1/2 way thorough it occurred to me that I want to know if I’m on the right path.  The breakup has pushed me in a different direction, I haven't gone to any of the normal vices, but instead am talking about it, writing, getting back into poetry, painting and I swear as  soon as I have a minute I’m going to start running again.  I was the last person Andy called on, I think I was the 10th? 

I asked my question, I'm dealing with a breakup in a whole new way and am I on the right path? He paused and said, from what I can see you have a lot of paths in front of you, I don't see a wrong one. That was comforting and honestly deep in my bones I do know that, but what he said next stopped me in my tracks.  I verified this with Jen later, but he said, you can't be mother, life coach and financial analyst in a relationship.  That stung a bit because looking back at it, I can see it.  I can see very clearly that I do that, I take care of everything, I am a fixer.  He said he can see that I attract damaged people, alcoholics, and people who can't take care of themselves financially.  When I look back, it's glaring.  While I appreciate that everyone has issues I seem to attract really broken men, and realizing that I don't have to fix everyone I date or fall in love with is (believe it or not) surprising.

He pointed out that it's up to me to break the cycle, that now I know it exists I can do differently next time, and there will be a next time. He said I wouldn't be alone, that He is out there, Andy just didn't know when or how it would happen.  That this man would be financially stable (yea!!), that he'd be funny and kind, that he could have a cocktail and a good time but isn't damaged.  He said he would respect my need to wear the pants and go with the flow.  He would be laid back and know when I just need a hug.  So funny and financially secure are both on my current list of four items, half my list Andy saw for me.  At this point he pointed out that there is a difference between psychic ability and being a medium, I was the first person he wasn't being a medium for-this was more psychic. 

The skeptical part of me thinks it's all hooey and that he is like a horoscope, you read in whatever you want from the answers.  But he could have said anything about me and what I was going through, he could have picked any characteristics but he nailed me specifically.  I think if nothing else it gives me hope. I'm not in any hurry to jump into the next relationship, I’m not rushing anything I'm still just figuring it out.  I'll be my own mother, life coach and financial analyst. 

Perfection

I am fully aware that life is about progress, not perfection.  But the control freak perfectionist inside of me really wants to pick up a paintbrush and become instantly an expert.  Is that too much to ask?  I want to pick up a pen and immediately become the Poet Laureate, I want to touch a keyboard and write the great American novel.  The idea I have for a screenplay should immediately win me an Oscar. I honestly don't think that's asking too much.  

Historically, I have let that pressure stop me from choosing to participate in so many things that it's embarrassing.  I have avoided fun runs, dancing with friends, taking trips, talking to the cute guy on the motorcycle, these are the few that come to mind immediately anyway.  Since the breakup though I have decided no more of that, no more of quitting before I start. If I really want to try something I’m going to try it. If I want to go somewhere I'm going.  More importantly I'm ok doing these things alone.  I signed up for a few art classes and am going alone. I have a trip to Vegas at the end of the month and I am taking my travel day there alone there instead of pressuring someone (cough, Mike) to come with me. I have learned that while I thought I was more when I was part of a couple with B, I am a whole person just by myself and my whole person wants to do things.

I spent some time this afternoon playing with color washes and sponges and experimenting with water and how it impacts the color, trying to see how it all works.  I am so sad to report I am still not an expert however I did lose 2 hours in the process. I was able to shut my brain off and meditate a bit lost in aquamarine, magenta and forest.  I love the times that my brain turns off, the times when I just get lost and for me the only times that happens is when I'm writing or doing my new hobby, painting.  I think time when we can try things and fail are so important in realizing there is more this life than just work, there is more than socializing. 

What I've been learning the past few weeks is that I really do like who I am, I like who I'll become.  I'm not afraid to try new things, I'm not afraid to fail (my perfectionist is screaming), I'm not afraid of changing my mind.  All of these things lead to such adventure.

Hard Habit to Break

The hardest thing in a breakup is the habit.  The habit of knowing B's schedule inside out and knowing at 12:25 he'd be getting off work, or at 3:30 he'd pickup his daughter at HS or that at 5pm he'd be heading to the apartment to make dinner or go for a run. Knowing someone like that inside and out puts too many reminders on a clock.  I loved this man wholly and completely and I am moving beyond that but it's the habit of him that is harder to break. 

Friends and family are making fun of me right now for my overly packed schedule. My mom has tut-tutted at being busy every single night, but that's one way to break a habit, find new things to do.  With our relationship spanning 180 miles from Omaha to Overland Park, I spent far too many evenings talking to him via Skype and would just be at home.  Now I have hours to fill and an obligation to myself to find out what I like and what I want to be.  I was in a training class today and the instructor mentioned that our creativity peaks at 5.  It makes total sense to me, that's when a majority of us start school and are forced to stand into seating charts, coloring inside the lines and following a very regimented schedule, this follows us all the way through college and into our jobs.  But there is a creative side to me screaming to get out.

I know, not shocking to anyone who reads my work. I have the blog, poetry and have started a watercolor class.  I want to create things in this world that seems so destructive.  I want to put new things out there and see what I can do to make sense of the world around me, make sense of this betrayal and breakup.  So far all I have is that I had something to learn from him and that there is something much better coming.  That's how it's always been, whatever breaks my heart is replaced by something so much greater than I could ever have imagined.  Getting laid off from CSG led to consulting and my own LLC and another Master's degree.  My divorce led to some of the deepest and most meaningful friendships and love I've ever known.  With this latest heartbreak all I can do is turn it all over to God, the Universe, Buddha, whomever you believe is in charge of these things. I can only sit back, feel the feelings and trust so much more is coming.

So habits?  Usually right now B and I would be talking on my way home, so instead I wrote and am acknowledging that I miss him, I miss our habit.  And for today, that's enough-just acknowledging what I'm really feeling and breathing.

I tell stories therefore I am

I think that's who I am, I'm a story teller.  I was in KC yesterday to pick up my stuff from the Asshat.  I was surprised at how much some of the things he's put in the storage unit stung.  I held it together for a little while and then I didn’t. Thank goodness Mike was there, he is safe and with him I can just fall apart when I need to fall apart.  He also put a letter from me on B's door, although I kinda wish Mike would have been able to say what we talked about-"The least you can do is read this, you owe her at least that." He did take the note and put it on the door for me, I just hope he read it, but that's not up to me, that is up to the universe. 

Colette drove home so I could have some quiet time and figure out what I could do for myself.  So I did what I needed to take care of me, I spent time with the under 6 crowd and just took love from the little people. It was just what Aunt Lollie needed, that and a sleeping pill.  Waking up today it was a brand new day, it was a beautiful day and lots of things to be grateful for.

I took my first watercolor class tonight, what fun!  I need to slow down a bit and realize it's not a race.  Enjoy the moment and just paint! But when I was in Paris (on paper) I realized that I missed telling B the little stories of my day.  The great Emotional Intelligence session I taught, the funny thing that happened in the meeting, how much fun the paint class was and towing a car when I got home.  I miss having someone who really cared about all of the tiny details of my day. I miss hearing those same stories from someone else.  Ok, to be fair he wasn't nearly the best story teller and his industry makes me crazy making news out of nothing but I loved talking to him.

I started to wonder tonight, why do I put so much emphasis on wanting to share the stories, does sharing my stories somehow make me more real? I do see the irony of asking this in a self indulgent blog.  But still, if I don't share the stories do I exist? It occurred to me that for the first time in a very, very long time I am doing things just for me, not to share them but just for me (again I realize saying all of this in a blog is indulgent and violating what I said but whatever).

Michael

I remember meeting him in 1994, if the date is wrong, I know he will correct me.  We met at Blockbuster Video, my schedule was Saturdays from 9-5. I'd run the store and he'd sit in back watching Wimbledon.  We were friends against his will.  Mike is a bit of a loner, always has been but I forced my friendship on him.  And because I'm sneaky we fell in love. We were married only for 8 months, realizing that after dating for 2 years and being married that we were so much better as friends. 

It was tough breaking up, both of us dealing with our anger and hurt in different ways.  Once I stopped protecting him from my family and got angry we stopped speaking.  And yes, I sent back his Christmas card and signed it so he would know it was me sending it back.  But then, but then we ran into each other at Macaroni Grill and exchanged business cards and started talking.  We talked a lot, and cried some.  Ok, mostly I cried.  That was in 2003 and after a few years we found our way back to friends.

We tend not to count the years we didn’t speak and talk about our friendship as being 21 years strong now.  There are few people on the planet who know me as well as Mike, maybe one but he broke up with me three weeks ago.  Mike has been steadfast in his support of me.  We've grown up together.  Gone are the days when either of us would run or shy away from honesty or asking for help. 

Mike has seen me at my best, glowing with love, basking in B's love. He's seen me at my worst with mascara running and snot bubbles. He has stayed when I asked and held me as I cried, he's stepped back and away from me when I needed space.  He has learned me in the past 20 years and I hope I've learned him too.  He is probably the person I've leaned on the most in the past few weeks.  This is what true friendship is, this unconditional acceptance and occasional ass kicking from only someone who loves you in spite of yourself can give you.

No one in our lives understands our friendship, why after so many years and our total love and devotion we aren't together.  We know that the best thing for us is to stay friends and just love each other as we are.  Hold each other up and support each other as much as we can. I will love Mike until the day I die, I will be there no matter what, and eventually when we are old and gray I will make sure the cat doesn't eat his face when he dies in his easy chair from a stroke over his beloved Hawks.  And I know no matter how many times my heart gets broken, Mike will be there to hold me up and dry my tears and buy me vodka tonics.