Soul Music

When the problems with my marriage started to become more reality than paranoia, I began to get fearful that it would affect my music.  Weird statement? Perhaps, but read on, true believer…
I love music.  I love to listen to it.  I love to sing it.  Many a concert has been given for none but me in my living room.  I believe songs are the placeholders in our lives.  As we go through significant periods in our life, the music we listened to during those times become associated with the memories.  A sound track, if you will. 


For me, I’ll hear a song from the early 80’s and instantly be transported back to my high school days.  I think this probably happens to everyone.  You have songs associated with each girlfriend (or boyfriend), proms you went to, break-ups you’ve had, even new jobs. 


So I was afraid of two things:  new music I was listening to during my divorce becoming associated (and forever tainted) by the divorce and music I listened to when my wife and I were first falling in love becoming too painful to listen to now. 


For today’s music, that isn’t too hard because there have only been two new albums I’ve listened to since this started:  Counting Crows Underwater Sunshine and Train’s California 37.  I was more concerned about Train because that’s been a band both my wife and I have liked and listened to together quite often.   I guess only time will tell if I associate the songs from those albums with my divorce but there is one off California 37 that will probably touch me in the future,  When the Fog Rolls In:

I take a deep breath with my hand on the door
Afraid 'cause I'm not gonna see you anymore
These were our tender years, this was our street
All of our stoplights and all our concrete
Now it's all somebody else's to take
Until the fog rolls in

Oo oo oo and now we're through

I am happy to report that, so far, the songs I was listening to when my wife and I got together haven’t been impacted by the divorce…well, almost.  There are two songs that I cannot listen to yet but hope to in time.  One was our wedding song, Don Henley’s For My Wedding.  As I have expressed before, Don Henley is one of my all-time favorite artists and having to avoid something from his body of work will be a crime.  I’m sure I’ll be able to listen to it again as some point but for now, I’ll leave it as a blog quote (from Open Letter to My Niece).  

The second song I won’t name here but it was a special one my wife and I shared and I really don’t think I will ever be able to listen to that one again.  That’s sad because it’s a good song but there are too many memories wrapped up in it from the time we were falling in love.  The song even has lyrics that apply to our current situation, which taints it even more.  In some ways, I feel like I’m losing just a little bit of my soul by not having that song in my life anymore.  Yes, it held that much weight. 


There are others that make me pause when they start playing but I’ve been able to listen to them.  One I mentioned in The Discord of the Ring, The Heart of the Matter, also by Don Henley.  Since the divorce, I haven’t been able to get through that one without tearing up.  It’s been a while since it’s come back up on my shuffle playlist and I’m hoping I’ll be okay when it does rotate through again.


Even though I thought it would be tough to listen to my music for fear of dredging up sad emotions or tainting it, I forced myself to do it and I’m glad I did.  Albert Schweitzer wrote:  “The only escape from the miseries of life are music and cats…”  I don’t own a cat (yet…potential blog topic, btw) but I do own music.  The music did help me escape and at the same time cope with what was going on. 


I’ll end this with yet another quote from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J.K Rowling : 

“Ah, music!  A magic far beyond all we do here!”


Magic indeed.

Next time: What’s the emotional 5 day forecast?

The Two of Me

For me,  the idea of divorce at first was a hope that the threat of it would bring out counseling and therapy to help save the marriage.  You see, I was the one who asked for the divorce, not my wife.  This may not have been clear in my previous blogs.  As I have written before (most notably in Why? and Relationship Update), I could tell she no longer loved me.  We already had one incident some months back where we said we would work on what we were doing wrong in the marriage.  From my perspective, that really turned out to be just me working on what I was doing wrong (working too much, traveling too much, not being there for her and the girls).  I’m not sure what she did during that time but truth is she was already gone by that point. 

Anyway, I popped the question of divorce hoping it would kind of slap her into the reality that she was letting her marriage slip away. 

By the way, you never see videos of people asking for a divorce.  Once again, we are inundated with videos of men asking their girlfriends to be their wife but I don’t remember seeing one where a couple is at a game and on the Jumbotron the husband asks his wife to not be that anymore (or vice versa).  Another service for the Divorce Shower, perhaps.

Back to me asking for the divorce:  Maybe if I had done it a year earlier, it would have helped, I really don’t know.  When I did ask, she was initially shocked but never fought it.  She basically said OK and off we went.  It was at this point, the “First Me” came out.

First Me was a sniveling, selfish, whiney, “Why me?” wreck of a man.  For the first two weeks after, there wasn’t a day he didn’t cry.  He spent time shouting at his wife wondering how she could have done this.  It wasn’t his fault they were where they were, it was hers.  There was one time First Me was on the phone with his wife and insisted she tell him what he did wrong even though she was with their youngest daughter at the time. “So what?” First Me shouted and was, rightly so, hung up on. 

First Me was also the one who came up with the brilliant idea to just move away.  Again, this was all the wife’s fault.  She didn’t want to work on the marriage so naturally, he had to move back to Texas where he used to live because he moved to NEPA for her and the girls and now that was all gone so why stay?  He had friends back in Texas.  He needed those friends.  He was leaving and it was her fault he would never see his kids again.

Sigh.

I deeply regret ever becoming First Me and I would apologize to my wife for the way I behaved but she has told me she doesn't read this blog, so instead, I will apologize to myself.

<Side Note>  If I knew my wife was writing a blog about her divorce experience, I would be reading every last word of that thing and trying to read in between the lines to find a hidden message.  I would even read it backwards to see if there was something subliminal in it just like they did back in the day with record albums. </Side Note>

I suppose, though, when faced with this type of life changing event, it’s somewhat natural to lash out.  Perhaps it’s even healthy to a point.  Still, it bothers me that I fell so low.  But when you reach such a low point, all you can do is go up and that’s when Second Me came out. 

Second Me was the much more thoughtful and reflective side of my post-divorce persona.  Second Me realized that while she had a fair share of blame, he also had responsibility for things getting as bad as they did.  The divorce wasn't this one thing or that one thing, it was a combination of different things that wrapped itself around the marriage until it choked the life out of it.

Second Me also spent time not as much wondering why but wondering what’s next?  The Second Me started this blog to help cope with what was going on in his head.  He tried to be as civil as he could when around his wife and also tried to spend as much time as he could with his children since he knew that time would end up being limited very soon.

Confident that his life wasn’t over was another trait of Second Me.  Finding a house, knowing that he will still be a father to his girls in the best possible way he could, and establishing a new life as a single man helped get Second Me through each day.

Unfortunately, there were times when First Me made an appearance and took down Second Me (one such time detailed in The Healing Walk).   I think back to the Incredible Hulk TV series from the late 70’s/early 80’s.  First Me was my Hulk and I needed to find a way to control the raging spirit that dwelled within me. 

So far, I think Second Me is maintaining control.  Even if First Me comes out, I know how to deal with it to put him back inside.  I don’t begrudge First Me.  He was a part of the process but he was the first part…I’m now in the second part and looking forward to the third, and hopefully last, part of the ordeal where First Me is but a memory, Second Me is a comforting friend and Third Me is the one the world sees. 

I look forward to meeting the Third Me.  Hope everyone else will too.

Next time:  I didn’t have to throw away my iPod

Packing It In

I really hate to pack.

If only I had come up with my Pre-Boxtial agreement (as described in Storage Wars: The Divorce) before we moved into our house.  The packing wouldn’t be so bad.  Alas, I did not so hand me that bubble wrap, would you?

Who came up with bubble wrap anyway?  I have this giant roll that I paid $15 for and once I’m done unpacking, I will no doubt throw it away (okay, maybe after I spend 45 minutes popping the bubbles).  Is that a good deal?  I guess if all of my stuff makes it over to my new place without being broken; it will be a good deal.  I think the items I am wrapping in the $15 bubble wrap are worth more than that…collectively at any rate.

When I bought the bubble wrap I was hit once again with the “consumer choice” dilemma:  Do I get the small bubbles or the big bubbles?  Do I buy the small roll or the big roll?  Do I want it clear or  green or blue or red?  Although now that I think of it, having the color coded bubble wrap would fit in nicely with having the husband’s stuff separated from the wife’s stuff.  I must make a note to update my legal document.

Armed with bubble wrap, boxes (which also aren’t cheap) and tape, I started taking down pictures, getting stuff out of closets and cabinets and drawers and from the various places we put stuff.  The late, great George Carlin once said: “A house is just a place to keep your stuff while you go out and get more stuff.”  That is no more apparent than when packing your stuff.   We did a darn good job in going out and getting more stuff.  I wonder how many more times I can stuff the word “stuff” into this paragraph?

The other part of this particular packing event was the fact that I was only moving 20 minutes away.  My wife was moving less than 2 minutes away.  Did we really need to go crazy with all the packing?  Experience says yes.  My luck travels along the path of whatever can go wrong will go wrong…I think it’s like a law or something.  So while I may think I can stack up all my framed pictures, put them in the back of my truck and get to my new house without any problem, the truth is I will get to my new house with a million shards of class and ruined pictures.

Thinking I was making things easier, I got one of those tape dispensers that allows you to apply the tape in one deft motion across the box and then cuts the tape cleanly and quickly when you are done.  Yeah, right.  That works about once every three attempts.  Most of the time, the tape doesn’t cut and you have a rolled up, stuck together tail of tape hanging onto the side of the box.  Either that or the tape sticks to the metal guide.  And when I say “sticks” I mean bonds like a leech to the soft underbelly of one of the stars of “Swap People.” 

Since I’m not physically moving for another couple weeks, I have been storing my boxes and some of the furniture I’m taking in the garage.  This meant I parked my truck out on the driveway and my side of the garage slowly filled up with possessions being moved from one stage of my life to the next stage.  Actually, it’s interesting because a good portion of what I am taking away from the marriage is stuff I brought into this marriage. 

I guess that’s somewhat fitting, isn’t it?  I’m traveling this highway of life with certain possessions and even though I may take an exit that diverts me for a while, I return carrying much of the same stuff I had before. 

Except for the bubble wrap.  Always get new bubble wrap because if you don’t and it becomes a while in between exits, you’ll essentially have only wrap with no bubble.

Next time:  Two Face

Parents, Inc.

Parenting gets put into a different light when a divorce comes around.  Yes, once again, I have released news that has never been considered before.  I would say “Stop the presses” but that would technically mean shutting down the Internet .  I, however, am in the middle of a Words with Friends game and I need that connection to figure out how to spell a word with 4 E’s, 2 A’s, and a J.

Regardless of the newsworthiness of what I said in the previous paragraph, parenting plans are altered when the mother and father no longer want to live together.  The original plan was to raise the children as a byproduct of the parents love for each other and the desire to bring the kids up in that love (at least that’s what it was for me…we may explore this particular topic in a later blog).  Since that love no longer exists, the rules of parenting have to change.  Marriage is supposed to be this great partnership but when divorce happens and children are involved, the partnership still has to be there, but it must become more business-like.  And the business is raising your kids in the best possible manner despite the unusual circumstances.

Let’s take a look at the roles of this new partnership.  The kids are easy:  they are the product we want to put out into the world.  If we are successful with our planning, development, testing and implementation, we will have two finely tuned and environment ready people that will go into the world and hopefully be something even more than what we initially rolled out.

My wife (or the primary caregiver as she is referred to in all the legal documents produced from the divorce) also has a clearly defined role.  Hers is handling the everyday maintenance of the children: get them up, get them dressed, care for their teeth, hair and skin, properly feed them at the appropriate times, make sure they go to bed, also at the appropriate times, and, most importantly, love them.

Ongoing discipline for when the “product” misbehaves is also under her umbrella of responsibility.  When they talk back or get into fights or lie or cheat in Candy Land, she will need to take corrective action to ensure they don’t hit the streets as liars or cheaters or worse, both.

The mother has to run the project plan and make sure every minor and major milestone of the children’s development is met. 

For me, the divorced father or secondary care-giver … which has a less than desirable connotation to it … the role is a bit different.  Yes, I am still responsible for maintaining the proper development of the child in the same manner as the primary care-giver but since my time with them is limited (essentially, a little more than a third of a year), I’m playing more the role of a consultant.  I have this background in raising and loving my daughters but since I have a limited engagement with them, I need to pass on as much as I can in that short amount of time. 

I’ve heard the term “Disney Dad” which is a part time father who compensates on the time missed with his children by giving them what they want, taking them to all kinds of fun places and basically spoiling the heck out of them.  In reading the definition, I didn’t want to do that but I completely understood it.  The desire to show the kids that Daddy is the "Fun Parent" is incredibly strong and will be hard not to do when you only see them every other weekend.  Since I have such limited time with them I want to make the most of that time but not to the detriment of the child.  Spoiling them is not making them ready for the world … it’s putting them at a disadvantage. 

So what do I do? I don’t want them to come over for the weekend and then spend all the time watching TV while I mow the lawn which may have been a typical way we would spend a Saturday when we all lived under the same roof all the time.  But I also don’t want every weekend to be full of Chuck E Cheese and amusement part visits.  I want that to happen some of the time, but not all of the time.  I need to balance the fun stuff with the… well, with the what?   I think that’s the question. 

And unfortunately, it’s a question I do not currently have the answer to.  I need to spend more time in R&D developing the right combination of fun and time well spent.  I’ll need to conduct several SCRUM sessions to discover where I am in this process.  If I apply an agile methodology to my development process, I’ll be able to see the effects of my current plan, tinker as needed, and then reapply.  As I come up with my proof of concepts, I’ll report back here so you can provide some market analysis on my methods. 

Aw shoot.  I guess I could just love them.  That’s been a tried and true business model for developing people for a very long time.  Why mess with that?

Next time: I wrap about bubbles.

House Hunters: NEPA

Completely unwanted and definitely unprepared for, I found myself searching for a new house.   Neither my wife nor I could afford to stay in our existing house so we had to sell it and get new places for ourselves.  Truth is, even if I could have afforded to stay in our house, I would not have.  Walking through the hallways that was once filled with love, now brimming with the stark coldness of a failed marriage would be pretty depressing.  Just writing that sentence was pretty depressing.

In my quest for new living arrangements, I immediately discounted the notion of moving into an apartment.  When we moved into the Northeast Pennsylvania area (NEPA), we lived in an apartment for about a year while our house was being built.  I told myself that was the last time I would do that and even thrust into a situation I never expected to be in; I intended to remain true to that vow.

So, the search for my own house began.  I’ll explore the “Two of Me” that came out during the divorce in a later blog, but part of the “First Me” wanted to move back to Texas where we lived before moving to NEPA.  I figured getting a house there would be easy, I knew the area well, and I had friends and family there.  It was a natural fit.  It was also the stupidest idea I ever pondered.  I would have missed my daughters within ten minutes of setting foot on Texas soil.

And seriously, did I really want to experience 40+ days of 100+ degrees in the summer again?  No offense to my Texas brethren, but no thank you. In NEPA, a heat wave is two days in a row over 90 degrees.  The area experienced a definitive change in the seasons and I actually enjoyed snow, so why would I want to move away?  Just so I wouldn’t have the rare chance encounter with my ex-wife in a grocery store?  Ridiculous.  I loved the area and it was my new home.  Plus, my kids were here.  Did I really need any other reasons?  I think not.

So, the search for my own house began…wait…did I already say that?  I think I did but this time I mean it.  I knew I wanted to get something with woods around it.  I wanted to be closer to nature so I looked into houses in the more mountainous areas of NEPA, specifically the Poconos.  Unfortunately, that area was about an hour away from where my daughters would be living.  I didn’t want to be on top of them but I didn’t want to be too far either. 

Funny how I even considered moving to Texas, a 3 hour plane ride away, and here I was being bothered by an hour drive away.  I am an enigma wrapped in a mystery and deep fried in season 3 of Murder, She Wrote. 

Luckily, I discovered an area about 20 minutes away from my girls and was in a lake community.  This meant activities to help me get my new life started on the right foot.  There was hiking, an indoor pool, a beach by the lake, kayaking, racquetball (yes, racquetball…hey, the 1980’s called.  They want their sport back), and other things to keep me and my girls (when they were with me) occupied. 

I had found the perfect location as far as scenery and recreation but what about the homes?  Since it had been a while since I looked for a house, I forgot what a hassle it can be.  With listings online, you’d think it would be easier, but I don’t know how many houses I browsed that had very few pictures posted with the listing or had none at all.  Why would you even bother putting it on line if you are not going to add pictures?  I don’t believe it costs any extra. On the other hand, you can’t judge it solely on the pictures because a lot of times the room looks huge in the picture but when you go see it “live” you discover you almost thought about buying a house with a living room the size of Mr. Rogers' sweater closet.

Speaking of pictures, one thing that bothered me while looking through what felt like hundreds of houses on line: why, when taking pictures of the bedroom, is the camera mainly focused on the bed?  I’m not buying the bed, I’m buying the room it’s in.  I know it can be hard to get the whole room in a single shot but most of these shots had the bed centered in the photograph. Is the thought, “Look, we got a bed in here. What more do you want to know about the room?”

The other problem was that I had no idea what type of house I wanted.  Obviously not too big but not too small either.  Even though the wife will have primary custody of the girls, they were still going to come over and I wanted to have room for them to grow. I liked the looks of the chalet style house (think ski lodge) and there were plenty to choose from in the area I was looking in.  Unfortunately, they were either too old, too dirty, too hot (no A/C...we don't have days on days of extreme heat but we still need that conditioned air in mid-summer) or too boastful (one said it was a three bedroom but the third bedroom was a loft with a closet no wider than a hallway).  I was also very keen on the resale value.  I didn’t know what the future held (and history was telling me I never would) so I didn’t want to settle on something that would be hard to sell later. 

I finally found what I think is just about the perfect house.  It came with an empty lot next to it and nothing is behind me except for a slowly escalating slope with hiking trails.  There is plenty of room for me and the girls, the resale potential is great and … well, to be honest, I can’t wait to move in.  I believe this to be the greatest feature of this house:  the ability to see that there is still a life to be lived after divorce.  It’s not like I didn’t know that but it’s hard to get excited about something when you haven’t felt even remotely happy for the past few months.  Then something like this comes along and restores a little faith.

Maybe this should be part of the selling description:  "3 bedroom, two story house with office and hopes for a better tomorrow."  Then show a picture of the master bedroom but only show the bed.  That seems to be important as well.

Next time: The business of parenting

The Healing Walk

Blogger’s Note:  Inserting a different blog here from what I promised at the end of the last blog.  Oh and if you enjoy reading my blogs and don’t want to miss a single one, enter your email address in the box to the right and you will get notified when a new one comes up!  I should’ve had that on day one but I’m just learning the tricks of the Blog World.  Now, on with my whining!  :) 

I think I jinxed myself.

In my previous blog, Anything But Normal, I “bragged” about being able to control and put up on a cabinet shelf the deluge of questions that frequently came up about what went wrong between me and my wife.  Well, I apparently don’t have that much control.  I woke up around 11:30 last night (after going to bed at 10:30) and did not go back to sleep until around 2:30 because of the constant buzzing in my head. 

The buzzing continued when I woke up at 6:30 and proceeded to get worse until I was practically incapacitated by around 10ish.  I know I lose man points when I admit to crying but I’m confident enough in the points I have left to take that chance.  Yes, after probably a couple week dry spell, I broke down.  Why?  I don’t know.  That’s the problem with the buzzing…it never has any real answers just questions.  I decided, however, instead of just sitting there wondering when the tears would stop, I would do something about it.  So, I took the advice of a good friend and went for a walk.

Prior to all this divorce stuff, I was pretty active in the P90X circuit.  I was about two months into the program and had lost about 10 pounds and starting to notice the weight coming off.  I store my fat in my face and in my belly.   That’s it.  Nothing else seems to get the attention of my fat cells.  I, however, had a better weight loss plan than Tony Horton and P90X.  I had … the Divorce Diet!  Yes, in just one month, I lost 15 pounds.  It’s amazing what simply not eating will do to your waistline.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t been doing P90X since finding out that I was getting a divorce.  I just didn’t have the desire or time to fit it in.  I was spending a lot of time just staring into space or working on divorce papers or finding another house and that time took away from work so I need to catch up.  To do that, something had to give and it was the exercise.

This morning, however, I needed the exercise.  I needed the activity to help me battle the buzzing.

So, I walked and walked hard.

I thought about when I started exercising in earnest.  More specifically when I started training for my first and only 5K.  I did it because I sensed a gap forming between me and my wife as she was and is an active runner.  I thought maybe we could bridge that gap by running together.  I hate running, though.  Hurts my knees and I could never sustain enough stamina to keep running. I constantly started and stopped.  I sucked on my 5K and the truth was, she didn't need me as a running partner.  She had other friends who could keep up with her.  I did keep up with the exercise, though.  I worked out each morning.  I got a good sweat going and sent her pictures to prove I was doing it.  I thought it would make a difference.  It didn’t.   Well, it didn’t in our relationship but it did for me and my health.  I am probably in the best shape I’ve been in years and that’s a good thing…especially when you have kids that are MUCH younger than you. 

I kept walking.

I wished I knew how to turn off my brain or at least how to stop the buzzing.  I don’t know if it takes drugs or drinking…those probably aren’t good options but I sure would be up for something.  I thought I was through all this…all the staying up at night thinking about what could have been or what was.  Maybe I was still on Prague time since I just came back from a week there or maybe I was simply not as far along in the healing process as I thought I was.  Whatever the reason, the walk was definitely helping.

So, I kept walking.

I thought about the stuff that was buzzing in my head.  It was all the usual questions of “Why” and “How did this happen?”  The stuff I really will never have any answers to but they kept coming up.  I think I was focusing this time on what my wife was thinking.  Did she have the same type of feelings?  Did she also have a constant pit in her stomach?  Did she lose sleep?  Was she even upset about it at all?  These questions are generally unfair and I really don’t like speculating on what’s going on in her head.  I do think that she has better reign on her emotions, though.  Still, I wonder if she ever thinks about how she let it get this way.  I know that sounds like I’m placing blame on her but I’m not trying to do that.  I know I missed out on opportunities to recognize problems and to work on them but I can’t take all the responsibility and that’s where I'm asking (in my head) what responsibility was she taking.  She has admitted she should have talked about her unhappiness but that’s the extent of it.  I get mad at her because I don’t see her in the same moods I get into.  She doesn’t seem to be as remorseful or guilt ridden or sad about these things.  I suppose,  again, is that she’s better at hiding it and me getting mad about it isn't helping anyone...least of all me.

What about me?  Can I hide my emotions?  No.  No way.  When I was younger, I used to think I was Mr. Cool.  Mr. Emotionless.  No one could read me, man.  Right.  I was actually Mr. Heart On My Sleeve.  I was and am blatantly obvious with my emotions.  So much so Stevie Wonder could read me.  If I’m sad, people know.  If I’m mad, people know.  I would have made a terrible spy.  I wish had my wife’s emotional control.

I kept on walking.

My brain was starting to get as tired as my legs.  I realized I had been walking for about two hours.  The sweat was pouring out of me…stinging my eyes.  This was all good although I wished I had planned my walk better.  I would have chosen running shorts and a lighter t-shirt but it was a spontaneous thing.  It won’t be the next time…which will be tomorrow.  I need to keep going on these walks or getting back into P90X.  I think the sweat that is leaving my body is also washing out each “worry” or “question” or “wonder” or “what if” that makes up the buzzing. 

Leaving those things in the cabinet I was storing them in was wrong.  These questions don’t need to be stored away.

They need to be let go.

Next time:  The hunt for the house

Anything but Normal

This probably won’t come as a big surprise to most of you but I really wasn’t prepared to go through a separation and divorce.  While I sensed there were problems, I didn’t think we were at DEFCON 1.  I certainly wasn’t prepared for the toll they were going to take on my emotions.   I may have been strong one day but the next I was as weak as Superman in a room made out of Kryptonite. 

Since I wasn’t able to move into my own place (as told in Making the Spare Bedroom Your Bedroom, Spare), I had to reside with a woman who no longer loved me and try to get on with my everyday routine.  Truth was, I just wanted to crawl under a rock and stay there; away from her, the situation, the routine, everything.  Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) I couldn’t do that…I suppose I could have but there is no way that would have been healthy.  Making McDonald’s my breakfast, lunch, dinner and late night snack for a year would have been healthier than that.

What struck me the most is how it wasn’t the big things that got me thinking about that rock.  I handled issues about visitations rights, custody, child support, the separation of our stuff and filing all the divorce papers with a relative amount of sanity. 

But when it came to the small stuff…

The everyday stuff…

The normal stuff…

…well, that’s when it got to me.  “Hey, how about we grill some steaks tonight?” or “Do you want a cup of coffee?”   The normal talk two married people have would make me go dark and silent.  I kept thinking we shouldn’t have this type of conversation.  Our situation was not normal and thus normal conversation should be banned.  We should be feeling sad or mad or guilty or embarrassed…anything but normal.

Why would I have a problem with the normal stuff?  I had to think about this one for a bit but I believe it comes down to the fact that talking normal led to feeling like things WERE normal.  For example, a few Saturdays ago, our daughters were in a dance recital.  We drove separate cars, mainly because I planned on going to a local home improvement warehouse afterwards, but, if I’m being honest, it’s just more comfortable that way.  My wife’s mom and step-dad came and it brought great joy to us to see our daughters dancing up on stage. 

Afterwards (and this is a three hour afterwards…dance recitals can be long), my wife asked if I wanted to go to dinner with her and the girls.  My initial reaction was to say no but I was hungry and decided to go.  While having dinner, the subject of going to the movies came up and the next thing you know, we all went to the movies.

The worst possible thing happened that night:  We had a good time. (insert dramatic music here..something like "Da-da-duummmmmmmm")

Having a good time leads to those ever familiar and dreaded questions:  “Why did we let it get so bad?  Doesn’t she like times like these?  Won’t she miss these times?  What the hell happened?”  The buzzing crept back into my head.

Fortunately, I had a lot of practice with these questions.  I was getting pretty good at controlling them, putting them on the shelf and shutting the cabinet door on them.  I realized whatever we were experiencing at the time was a momentary thing.  The way we were was no longer and we had to deal with the way it was.  Early on in the situation, I would have been considerably depressed for a few days over something like this but I guess I was starting to heal.  It was still sad but it was no longer devastating. 

I also avoided talking about events outside of us, the children or the divorce.  I needed to stop sharing that type of personal stuff because, again, it would make our situation feel normal.  My dad had back surgery while we were in the middle of finalizing the divorce agreement and I was worried about him.  I sent my wife an email about it and I regretted it the second I clicked the Send button.  I was reaching out to her for comfort and I realized I had to stop doing that.  I either needed to turn to other sources for that type of comfort or just comfort myself. 

In addition to bad news, I also didn’t like to share good news or just regular, everyday “news.”  As anyone would do, I spent time chatting with my neighbors.  Normally, after having conversations like this, I would talk to my wife about some of the things “the guys” and I talked about but not anymore.  Why?  Well, it’s that word again: “normal.”  I just couldn’t talk about anything other than the divorce and child matters because I didn’t want things to feel normal. 

Were my wife and I still friends?  It’s a question I still wonder about.  I wouldn’t say we were enemies but “friends” didn’t seem right either.  There’s a certain air of normalcy to being friends…we were more “very familiar acquaintances.”  I think that best sums it up. 

I do wonder if we’ll ever get back to having “normal talk.”  We still have the job of raising our children so we must communicate at some level but will we be able to conduct normal talk?  If we do, then I know it will a sign of healing.  One that means a step closer towards forgiveness and starting over has been taken with the person I was once “one” with. We’ll never be that “one” again but maybe we can be that “two.”  Two people who can simply talk.

What could be more normal than that?

Next time:  The hunt for the house