Category: Traveler’s Tales

  • life, the universe, and everything

    life, the universe, and everything

    Being the geek that I am, I’ve been anticipating tomorrow for quite some time.  It’s not only Towel Day, but it’s my Towel Day–I’ll be turning 42, which means that it is destined to be the perfect birthday.

    Except, of course, it is not.  I’m not wandering in Italy this year, I’m not hosting an inspiring fundraiser, and I’m not throwing a party for friends.  In fact, I haven’t been feeling well at all lately due to this.

    But…

    At the same time, I’ve never felt more at peace with my life than I do now.  I’m not railing against a rigid religion, or feeling friction from a failing relationship, or worrying about what lies ahead.

    Instead…

    My days are filled with many pleasures: a satisfying job, many books to read, much time on the ocean, a happy home-life, and friends who like to talk long into the summer evenings.  If I could sum things up in just a few words, it would be that I am satisfied.  Satisfied with who I am and all that’s happening in my life.  In fact, that’s the primary reason I haven’t been blogging much anymore–I don’t have angst and worries and unfinished business.  I’m recording many of my simple pleasures on instagram, but find little in my everyday life that warrants blog discussion.

    I have enough.  I am enough…

    I suspect that, for me, that’s why 42 is The Answer to “life, the universe, and everything.”  So many things just aren’t necessary on our travels when we know where our towel is.  The rest just seems to work out one way or another.  Or, perhaps we learn that whatever does happen is answer enough.

  • Traveler’s Tales: dating (or not)

    This post is part of my “Traveler’s Tales” series: guest blogposts written by women who have experienced divorce. You can find other entries in this series here.

    By Simone

    ==========

    On being single…and not liking it so much.

    The other day, my daughter announced that her father needed to go on Match.com and start dating. When I asked her why she’d never made a similar comment about me, she fumbled around a bit, finally coming up with something along the lines of “I live with you. You’re a mom. I only visit Dad, so he can date. You can date when I go to college in 3 years.” Gosh, thanks kid.

    Truth be told, I live in a small town, and the political climate of where I live…well, let’s just say there are a lot of libertarians and let’s leave it at that. But I’d love to date. I’m not talking about finding The One, but dang, it’d be nice to have someone to go have dinner with, see a movie with, and yes, by all that is holy, have sex with (when the kid isn’t home, of course…that’s just too much explanation right now!). Although my life is pretty good, I miss that connection to someone else. And man, do I have to get out of this house!

    Maybe part of the reason I’ve been feeling lonely of late is because I live near my parents, who are hopelessly in love, or my grandfather and his bride of 3 years. Or that all of my friends here are couples. But I am perpetually the 3rd wheel everywhere, and my ‘date’ to most things is my teenager, who hangs out with her friends and yes, her boyfriend. in fact, nearly every single person I know here is coupled up.

    Not sure how that happened, and not sure how to get out of being single. I don’t do bars, I don’t have a ton of money, and dating sites…they seem so desperate to me.

    But if anyone knows a nice, slightly geeky, single liberal in their late 30s or early 40s living in northern AZ, we should talk.

  • Traveler’s Tales: “I am new today”

    Another post in the series of Traveler’s Tales

    A Guest Post by Christy

    I am new today.

    While I realized within a couple months that my ex-husband’s departure was more than threat and my marriage was over, today conjures a set of emotions I hadn’t imagined. The state of California mandates a six-month legal separation before clearing a dissolution of marriage. It has been much longer than the six months we were legally separated; today happens to be six months from when some particular paperwork was filed with the court. I still can’t discern what that was in my documentation. Anyway, this to say that today is an arbitrary day in the process of separateness that has already happened, and doesn’t relate to any date hitherto personally significant to me. But by virtue of The Law, today I am single once again. It took signatures from us both, two witnesses, one ordained clergy, and one state official to marry; only his signature and that of a judge to undo it.  (Side note: what if we had to get signatures from each of those participants to undo it?)

    Dates I’ve considered mile markers in this process? The first time I saw him after months without; the day I nursed him back to health while apartment shopping; the day after Christmas when his sister posted family pictures that included my replacement; the day his brother made a point to visit me when he came into town and told me he was relieved for me and nearly told my replacement to “run for her life”. Those are dates I will remember moving ahead.

    I doubt he has given today any thought, and to be honest, I’ve launched into singlehood by now too. But today, I do feel a certain last chain removed.

    Also today: I accepted what is essentially my dream job. I plan to share more of my story here in the future, but for now I’ll say that my career was problematic within what my ex somewhere along the road dreamed to be a “traditional” marriage. My husband left at a particularly vulnerable time (whether this was his intention, I hope never to know)—right before I was to finish dissertating, enter the job market, and once I was all out of funding to continue enrollment in my PhD program. So for quite a long time, not only was I grieving, I was also tremendously vulnerable and scared.

    Today I feel very excited for what it represents professionally and personally. It also feels vindicating.

  • Traveler’s Tales: “Divorced with two children”

    Another post in the series of Traveler’s Tales

    A Guest Post by Jeanne

    When my sons were small, I used to tell people I was divorced with two children. Full stop. End of story.

    Of course, people who knew us wondered how I got one Asian child and one pale-skinned red head with only one husband. When I mentioned that Older Son was adopted, that usually satisfied their curiosity.

    But then if I happened to mention my years in Japan, and the fact that my ex-husband was Japanese, the cat was usually well out of the bag, and many people would ask me directly at this point … and I didn’t blame them.

    Our family story is complicated, but perhaps not much more than most: I married a Japanese man when I was studying in Hawaii (an M.A. in Japanese language from the U of Hawaii). After a few years in Berkeley to get a second master’s in journalism, my husband and I went to Japan, where we adopted the boy I call Older Son. He is now 26 and well on his way to success in all aspects of his life. (Note my maternal pride.)

    Fast forward five years, to a divorce (my idea) and my return to the states with Older Son in tow. We settled in Chico, CA, for a year, where I taught journalism and public speaking and Older Son attended a daycare where–for most of his time there–he was the only child who wasn’t white. There were scarcely any kids who weren’t BLOND. I knew this wasn’t going to work for us long-term.

    During this time, I met the tall, blond research scientist who was to become the father of Younger Son. This pregnancy was an accident, but I call it a “happy accident”–I had never been pregnant before and I welcomed the pregnancy and sailed through it happily despite my situation as a (by then) unemployed single mother living on my savings from the Tokyo years.

    We returned to Seattle, close to my birthplace of Tacoma and the town where I grew up, Hoquiam, WA. And I raised my sons alone. No, it wasn’t easy. But I was an older mother (30 when I adopted Older Son, 35 when I gave birth to Younger Son), and I would do it again.

    Next time I’ll elaborate on my life as a single working mother, especially after my diagnosis with breast cancer when my sons were 13 and 8.

    In the meantime, here’s my blog: http://assertivecancerpatient.com/

  • Traveler’s Tales: “Sometimes I still turn into a puddle”

    Another post in the series of Traveler’s Tales

    A Guest Post by Mary

    Sometimes I still turn into a puddle.

    This time of year is filled with first “anniversaries” I’d rather not remember, let alone commemorate. The day my husband told me he thought we should do a trial separation.  The day I found out about the infidelity. The day — December 10th, today — he made it clear that, for him, the marriage was over. The day the “D” word became more than a threat I shouted at him in the depths of despondency and rage.

    What a long, strange trip it’s been. Within the next few days my divorce will be finalized and I will be a single twenty-something again. I’ll get my rather awesome surname back.  “Getting” a divorce will become “got” a divorce. And, truthfully, I’m ready for it.  But I also refuse to anesthetize the emotional messiness of the process by offering up platitudes about closure and fresh starts.  I am still grieving. I am still recovering. And I am still figuring out what my life is supposed to look like without my husband in it.

    My days are still mixed-bag of complex and contradictory emotions. Often it’s only when my eyes well up with tears that I realize my mind has wandered to my marriage. At other times I’ll  find myself re-hashing old arguments and conjuring up cutting retorts. These feelings strike suddenly and they strike hard, but fortunately, these days, they also pass quickly.

    Today I cry not because I’m getting divorced this week. The woman I am today  can handle it, lingering, conflicting emotions notwithstanding.  I cry for the woman I was a year ago, who felt like her marriage had been exposed as nothing but a series of protective fictions. The woman for whom the mere possibility of divorce was an unbearably painful thought.

  • Traveler’s Tales: “I miss sex. There, I’ve said it.”

    Traveler’s Tales: “I miss sex. There, I’ve said it.”

    This is the first installment in the Traveler’s Tales series

    A Guest Post by Simone

    I miss sex.  There, I’ve said it.  At a slightly old, and not at all cougarish 42, I really do miss having someone that knows my body.  That knows what to touch, where to touch, and (perhaps most importantly) when.  The person who knows that exact spot on my neck that makes my knees go weak.

    As a single mother of a teenager, opportunities for meeting someone to actually have sex with are slim.  When I first got divorced, and met the man I dated for a year, it was great.  Friends got it.  There were sleepovers and all sorts of fun things for my kid to do, so I could – well, so I could get laid.  It was great.  And the man I dated was pretty great, too.  I knew he wasn’t Mr. Forever (and I certainly wasn’t looking for it), but dang.  He reminded me, after a very long time of being married to someone who wouldn’t do that to the mother of his child, that oh yes, that felt really, really good.  We had some fun, and then I broke it off.  I had gotten what I wanted out of the relationship, and he was actually pretty okay with it.  His new wife is a lovely woman.

    But here I am, several years later, and my best friend is my vibrator.  I like it (heck, I recommend every woman get a pocket rocket), but it’s not particularly good for cuddling, and impossible to make out with.  For all the shuffling and scheduling and disruption, I’d like a real, live human being now, thanks.  There’s this spot on my neck that makes my knees weak, you see, and, well…

    Oh, yes.  Right ….there.

  • Support, stories, and a new blog feature

    Within moments of John telling me that he was leaving our marriage, I texted a friend:

    John is leaving me.  In despair.  Can I come over?

    I remember almost nothing of that night except that I had a shoulder to cry on and a friend who listened and offered every imaginable support, while serving me cup after cup of hot herbal tea.  In the days that followed, as I explained my situation to other close friends, a tight net of support emerged around me.  The support often came from tangential relationships, such as the woman who came over to explain California divorce to me.  She’d never been to my home and we’d only met once before–but she was freshly divorced herself and knew she had information that I would need.  She stayed for hours and listened as much as she shared.

    Then there was the group of friends who live far away, who daily sent me snail-mail letters and care packages.  These sweet notes arrived both in Pasadena and Irvine–they covered all the bases because they knew I was flitting between two homes during the month of December.  They were envelopes filed with color and poetry and care.  Reminders that I was loved and important and strong.  My Exponent sisters sent the softest-ever blanket with a giraffe-fabric pattern–as a reminder that giraffes are matriarchal creatures and they take care of their own.  That blanket went back-and-forth with me wherever I slept during December and is still folded into a rectangle at the foot of my bed.

    Now, as I find myself trying to forge a path forward with this new life of mine, I continue to be influenced by the stories of friends who have followed similar trajectories.  Using the imagery of my blogtitle, I consider myself a fellow pilgrim with these women.  Some of them have traveled on ahead of me and can offer a map of where they’ve been.  Others are traveling alongside me, or are journeying on a similar, but separate, route.

    Recently I wrote to several of these women and asked them to share their wisdom on my blog.  Because I feel as though we can all benefit from hearing their stories.  We have so much to learn from each other and we have so much support to offer those who are in the midst of their own difficult paths.  Thus, I’ll be posting the writings of many of these women as Guest Posts on Pilgrimsteps over the next few weeks, under the title of “Traveler’s Tales.” If you have a story or some thoughts that you would like to share for this feature, please send them to janaremyATgmail.