Category: family

  • sweetie

    Toby Joy in repose

    This evening our vet put our TobyJoy to sleep, after her seizures had escalated to the point where further control with medication seemed unlikely. Her seizures started again a few days ago–small ones at first, then morphing into body-wracking shakes that contorted her small frame backwards and forwards.

    Last night when Toby’s seizures began to escalate I texted John, unsure of whether it was appropriate to ask for his support. We exchanged a few messages as Toby writhed in my arms, and as her legs became paralyzed. I was so confused. I didn’t know whether to lean on John–as I had so many times before–or whether this was my own burden to carry. All I knew was that I was hurting and I couldn’t figure out who else to call on. For the past two decades when I’ve been weak, John has stepped in to “fix” the problem, to offer solace, to help me to decide what to do.

    As I wavered with indecision, Toby was curled in a ball on my chest–so much like my babies did when they were little. Feeling her weight, wrapping my hands securely around her body, I settled into an armchair and sang some songs. I stroked her fur and told her how much I loved her. I rocked back and forth. I was unsure of what else to do but just be there with her. I alternately prayed she would die and then prayed that she would live. I cried. I hoped. I wondered. And eventually…the morning came.  When I needed help getting her into her crate for transport to the animal hospital, I chose to call on my friends rather than John.

    Within a few hours John joined me at the vet to ascertain the extent of Toby’s ailment and we decided to put her to sleep to ease her pain. I sat, and John stood uncomfortably nearby as Toby’s doctor explained the procedure and our options. I signed the paperwork. Because Toby-cat was so ill, we got no last visit or chance to say good-bye.

    When we settled the bill in the foyer (tears sliding down my cheeks) and reviewed the charges with the cashier, I pointed out some details to John and called him “sweetie.” It was pure instinct to address him that manner (as I always had).  The endearment spoken as we stood side by side, working through something hard together. I instantly regretted my slip, not knowing if he had even noticed it, but at the same time feeling an even greater loss than a moment before when all I was mourning was our sweet kitten.

    We then walked out to our separate cars, me carrying Toby’s crate and collar.

    John’s hands were empty.

  • a window into this week…

    I moved back to my home last Saturday.  Which is now more my home than it ever has been–the majority of John’s stuff being gone, as well as the half of our property that he took along with him to his new life.  As far as these things go, I’d say that the transition has been a fairly smooth one.  But it is also strange how this all plays out on a day-to-day basis…so I thought I’d list a few of my experiences this week to illustrate how things are going this far…

    • Bought new bedlinens.  I kept our bed (which I love), but it seemed a necessary thing to make a substantive change to make it ‘mine’ rather than ‘ours.’
    • Speaking of ‘ours’…a friend noticed that I still use this word when discussing my home.  It’s a hard habit to break.
    • At the local rock climbing gym, several people hailing me as “John’s wife.”  Explaining to them that I am no longer John’s wife, and trying to ignore the uncomfortable pause at the end of that interaction.  But supposing that they’ll remember to call me Jana the next time we meet.
    • The challenge of my attempts to cook in the kitchen.  I open cupboards to retrieve familiar implements and ingredients, only to find them gone.  Or perhaps moved to a place where I haven’t found them yet.  It will take some time before I know my way around that once-familiar space again.
    • Filling out permission slips for a field trip for the kids.  Realizing that the familiar blanks of those forms are now filled out differently with two parents in two different homes.  Just one more thing to get used to.
    • A note from an LDS friend, inviting me back to Mormon church.  (Sigh).  For the record: I have no desire to be LDS now that we’re divorcing.  If anything, just the opposite.
    • Having primary custody of the children.  Loving that they are nearly always home when I am and enjoying how good it feels to hug them when I walk in the door after work and before we all go to bed at night.
    • Going clothes shopping with a friend who encouraged me to move outside my familiar and somewhat conservative ‘Mom’ style.  Shopping at stores that I haven’t been in since I was a teenager, and letting go of the feeling that I need to ‘dress my age.’
    • Coming across a folder of cards from John, including the one he wrote me on the two-month anniversary of our marriage that says “it’s like living in a dream to be eternally married to you….”.  Remembering just how young and naive we were then and wondering…wondering…but also knowing that the what-ifs simply don’t matter now.
    • Tobykitty’s health stabilizing one more time.  Appreciating that the loss of her is not combined with all of the other losses in our family right now.  Pondering just how many more lives she has to left to spare (fingers crossed).
    • Two different friends noticing that I am constantly apologizing (for the strangest things, like tonite when I apologized for my dinner smelling so good).  A habit I’ve slipped into over the past few years that will take some time undo…
    • Taking down the photos of us still hanging on my walls.  Seeing the tender notes  from John written on the backs of frames.  Wondering what the hell I am supposed to do with this memorabilia now.  Toss? Keep? Burn?
    • Having an in-person conversation with John about one of our children (our first live interaction in quite awhile).  Our shared concern filling the space between us.  Considering how our love for our kids continues to bind us to each other.
    • This big empty living room where I am now typing.  I have the intention to go and buy a couch and some art for the empty walls, but I’d rather just be ‘home’ right now.  Retail therapy leaves me feeling so empty afterward.
    • The indentation of my wedding ring that still lingers on the 4th finger of my left hand.

  • wrung out…

    christmas 2005
    Navigating the holiday season while going through this divorce hasn’t been easy. It’s been a time of making new traditions rather than remembering the old…

    “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one…wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket–safe, dark, motionless, airless–it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”
    ~C.S. Lewis

    Photo above is from Christmas 2005. Now the kids are as tall as that Christmas tree–no chair necessary! :)

  • one month

    one month

    This is probably the last picture of our family, taken about a month ago.  We were picking up some dinner at Taco Mesa before the kids had some school-related activities.  John snapped this pic and posted it to Twitter, while making some comment about how “nothing really happened unless it was photographed and tweeted.”

    At this point I’d already sent John the first volley in the email conversations that would be the catalyst for his decision to leave.  I was awaiting his reply while life carried on rather normally on the surface of things.

    Such photos say so much.  And so very little.

  • Sundays

    Sundays are becoming more and more special to me, because they’re the day I’m with the kids.  This Sunday we spent the morning at the beach:
    just the three of us

    And played in the waves:
    IMG_0913

    Then we had a few hours relaxing at our home and went to see an animated 3-D flick:
    IMG_0929

    Leaving the kids this time around was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I wanted desperately for things to go back to the way they were–before we had to take turns and before each time I had with them meant that I would have to say good-bye (again). Knowing that no amount of fun that I have with them during “my time” can compensate for the fact that I can’t have them all the time anymore…

    It must be a normal thing to hit this emotional wall where you just want everything to be as it was. I can remember back when I was going through my cancer treatments when I would close my eyes and try to wish away all of the ways my life had changed. But no amount of denial ever made it so. I understand that. I know this is a “what has to be done” moment just like those health traumas were so many years ago–like that terrible day when I woke up and realized that my leg was gone and it just wasn’t going to grow back again.

    But, by god, knowing all of that doesn’t stop me from wishing, crying, and bone-deep aching right now…as I once again drive away from the home that we used to all share together.

  • xoxo Monday

    This morning was a tough one–I had a wonderful day with the kids yesterday, so returning to my solitary life was hard. I was feeling a bit sorry for myself, so I indulged in some time sitting on the sunporch petting a purry kitty. Letting myself just be where I am right now. (oh my, I’m sounding awfully new-agey)…

    But then I packed up and got myself out the door and on to work. As I was driving, I noticed at nearly every intersection there was a mass of rose bushes. I was simply enjoying this–the textures and colors of the roses as I waited for lights to turn green–when it hit me. Duh. I landed in the City of Roses for this month of transition. And all of a sudden I felt as if the universe had just picked me up and given me a huge bear hug and sloppy wet kiss on the cheek.

    (PS: This story that I wrote quite awhile ago when I was active in the LDS church, explains why roses are so important to me)

  • Seeking Security

    a family outingIn talking to a friend last night, I realized a few things about my personal and professional trajectory the past decade…

    It was about a decade ago that John and I first had significant marriage problems.  At that point we’d been married for 7 years and as John was climbing the corporate ladder, he seemed increasingly frustrated with having married so young.  We had two small children at home and John was the breadwinner while I was a stay-at-home-Mom.  I was literally tied to our home given that John took our only car to work everyday and we didn’t live near anywhere that I could walk to to catch a bus or shop.  My entire world revolved around supporting him and caring for the kids.  So when things got a bit rocky with John, I was completely dependent and vulnerable.  I’d never had any jobs that paid much more than minimum wage.  I had a science degree but no lab experience to turn that degree into a marketable skill.  I had no savings of my own, no retirement money, nothing.

    It was just about then that some things started to change in our family.   We had to buy a second car so I could drive the kids to school, which gave me a huge increase in autonomy.  I started taking classes at a local community college.  I began to think seriously about applying to graduate school.

    While I can’t say for sure that my aims for advanced education were motivated by the fear that John and I would eventually split up, I think I can say that I knew I needed more security “just in case.”  I opened a Roth IRA and began depositing money into it each month.  I stopped thinking so much like Martha Stewart and took on Laurel Ulrich as my role model instead–thinking that even if it took me twice as long as anyone else to finish my graduate degree, at least I would have it eventually.  I began thinking far more pragmatically about money and my future.  Once I was in graduate school I began applying (perhaps rather ruthlessly) for as much funding as possible.  I wanted to ensure that I didn’t end up finishing my PhD with a significant amount of debt, knowing that that would only increase my dependence rather than decrease it.morning light, in my office

    So maybe it’s no surprise that when I initially revealed to a friend that John was leaving me, one of the first things I said was how glad I was that I had a job!  It’s so empowering to know that I won’t be financially dependent on John for child support, health insurance, or alimony. For the first time ever, my income is larger than John’s.  I still feel quite vulnerable in today’s economy–and I know it won’t be easy to support the kids on my salary.  But I think I knew, perhaps even subconsciously, that I never wanted to be in that same awkward and dependent position again as I was when I first feared that we would split up.  It’s undoubtedly what’s kept me so aggressively focused on my educational and professional goals these past few years. 

    A friend mentioned to me that when we feel powerless over the romantic aspect of our lives, we often try to take control of the financial part–because that’s one thing we can do when the rest is out of control.  That makes a lot of sense to me.  And I’m so glad that I did this so I’m not left in a financially vulnerable position now.

  • beyond the rainbow

    beyond the rainbow

    A huge part of me is tempted not to blog right now.  My emotions are so mutable–it seems that if I write about what I’m feeling at this moment, in another few minutes I’ll feel radically different…

    As I sat in front of our rainbow bookshelves this morning and passed my eyes over each title, I said good-bye to our home and what it’s been to us for all of these years.  By the time I return to our place, the books will be separated and sorted.  And I doubt that I’ll ever have the desire to have rainbow bookshelves again.

    But other than a moment of wistfulness, I was okay with leaving.  There’s a part of me that’s looking forward to the new experiences that lie ahead, even if there’s occasionally a heavy aching in my ribcage that makes me wish this wasn’t happening.  I don’t want John back (given all the hurt he’s sent my way these past few days, I’m quite ready to let him go), but I still feel some longing for what we had as a family, and of the sweetness we had in our home before he was so unhappy.

  • A photo essay for Catgirl

    Today is Catgirl’s birthday, so she’s really been on my mind for the past few days. At times like these I want to yell from the rooftops just how wonderful my kids are, but words can’t really even contain the awesomeness of these kidlings. So how about a few pictures?

    When she was about a year old, the kids went with John to Hogle Zoo and had some photobooth fun (she had such big brown eyes and was curious about everything!):
    the kids with Dad, Hogle Zoo, 1997

    Even as a toddler, she loved to play dress-up. Back then that usually meant dresses (and usually they were purple–this is an exception to that rule):
    Like a Bag Lady

    Here’s Catgirl on a fancy dress-up day in kindergarten. With her very best friend (they still keep in touch online even though they’ve been at different schools since first grade)
    catgirl with best friend

    Catgirl has quite a sweet tooth, and her favorites have always been berries:
    Strawberries!

    She loves the ocean and the beach. When she was small we would spend hours just digging around in the sand. Here she is on Christmas Day at Crystal Cove state beach a few years ago:
    catgirl

    This, taken just as she entered her teenage years, with her post-braces smile:
    Striking a pose

    And most recently, Catgirl’s award-winning self-portrait:
    self-portrait

  • bath


    Recently I was shopping with some friends and we stopped in a Lush store. I’d never been in this particular store before, I had a lot of fun sniffing the brightly-colored products. The salesgirl gave us an awesome salt scrub on our hands, and I was feeling quite groovy-relaxed. One of my friends asked if now that I was working, if I was indulging in myself more often and buying beauty products like creams and lotions and soaps.

    It’s true that now I do have a bit more financial freedom (despite most of that extra money going for sick cats and grad-school tuition!). But…I think because of having a family for so many years, and having pinched pennies for years and years and years….buying sensuous bath soaps really isn’t on my radar. Right now I’m thinking about retirement planning and my kids’ college tuition and that newish car that I’ve really gotta buy sooner rather than later.

    Isn’t that just totally boring? Probably. But also, nearly every time I’ve actually drawn a bath and put the bubbles in, I find that I just can’t wait to get out, get dried off, and get something else done.

    I am so weird.

  • so fallible

    I keep writing and re-writing what I want to say in this post, and it still isn’t coming out right.  But here’s an attempt…

    Although I’ve been “very productive” in my life these past few years–working towards my PhD, advancing my career, pursuing my hobbies passionately, supporting my family, etc.  Many things still fall through the cracks….

    For most of my life I wrote letters to my extended family members weekly, and dutifully visited them.  For the past five years, I have only intermittently remembered their birthdays and other gifty-holidays.  I rarely call.  Thank you notes are mostly unwritten.  When my great-aunt died a few days ago, I was completely shamed by how lax I’ve been in supporting her the past couple of years.

    I feel truly awful about this, and the more I realize how terrible I feel, the more it compounding all of the other ways in which I fail everyday.  Whether its missing a deadline, or blurting out something asinine in an academic conversation, or forgetting to follow-up with a friend…I mess up constantly.  Constantly.

    Some days I just wish I weren’t so fallible, so busy, so careless, so self-absorbed, so tired, so focused, so weak.

  • the piano

    Over the years I’ve written and spoken about buying a piano. I apologize for any who’ve already heard this one before (but maybe, like all good songs, it’s worth replaying occasionally)….

    We bought this piano during a time that I was at the lowest low of depression, and needed some way out. I’d taken years of lessons as a young girl and had this inkling of a desire to play and sing again. So we bought an inexpensive yet serviceable digital piano from our favorite local music store. And I bought some music. Mostly showtunes and Enya and some Sting and a bit of Cat Stevens. Playable singable stuff.

    It took my fingers awhile to remember how to play. And my voice was creaky and weak (I was also suffering from chronic bronchitis and had a physician who wasn’t helping me to get better), but my abilities grew as I kept playing. My kindergartener and toddler liked playing, too, and they could even recognize the Disney tunes and church melodies.

    That piano was a catalyst to my finding my voice again. That, and I started taking classes at a community college with an eye towards graduate school. And soon after I started blogging–these words became my therapy to express the numbness happening inside my head…

    Long story short: the kids played piano for a few years and then moved on to other instruments that they liked better. I rarely played much anymore because I had papers to write or to grade. The piano turned into a dust-gatherer that moved from room to room. It lived at a friend’s house for awhile and got some good use there, but it wasn’t getting any attention at ours.

    So on Sunday, we moved our piano to our Quaker Meetinghouse. The very best part of that move? Knowing that it will continue to bring light to those who hear the music. I especially love the intention to use the piano for inter-generational singing. Perfect.