Divorce – what you don’t think about

“I’m heartbroken,” Eric said, as we drove to my apartment last night.

I knew what he was talking about immediately.

I’ve already written a post about why I view marriage as an unnecessary and burdensome financial contract. Not going to repeat myself here. So I’m going to talk kids and how they often do not “play” in the divorce decision.

When I was contemplating divorce — a process that actually took years of therapy – it was all about me and my husband. What was good? What did I love about marriage? What was bad? What I could live with? I talked about what I needed and wasn’t getting. Was the stuff I was getting out of marriage enough? Could I live the rest of my life with the stuff I wasn’t getting from my marriage? These were the topics I beat to death in therapy. In the end, as you know, I decided I could not live without emotional and sexual intimacy from my husband for the next blah blah years.

There were things I thought about but didn’t fully comprehend. I could tell you I didn’t expect the huge financial cost of getting a divorce. I can tell you I didn’t foresee the financial collapse, so gettting back to work as an economist wasn’t an option (I did come close with Lehman, which was to go under less than a year after that interviewwith their chief economist). I could tell you I didn’t foresee the incredible psychic energy and emotional toll a four year divorce took on me, even though I made the best of it and came out pretty intact for a manic depressive nut (lol, just kidding).

During those years I painted, I got a degree in Art therapy, did an internship, got a job, took the lsat, did not get into law school, dated a bagillion men and even fell in “love/like/infatuation” a few times. Frankly I had a hell of a good time, despite what could have been a period of outright mental breakdown (I have a few friends, who had that emotional collapse that can only be described as a breakdown.even though that is not an actual psychological term, lol. I did not! Yay for me. )

During most of the divorce period, we “nested” meaning my soon-to-be-ex and I still lived in the same house.. He in the office, me in the master bedroom upstairs. Later we would alternate who lived in the house with our daughter, each of us being ordered by the court to find a bed somewhere else so the child could live with one parent at a time and adjust to the new world order.

This. This is when it hit me. I would no longer be with my daughter every day. I could no longer see my daughter every day. I would no longer be able to touch her, or smell her, or play with her, or talk with her every day. It was fucking devastatiing. And I didn’t expected it. Can you believe it?

And that is what Eric meant went he said “I am heart broken.” The kids. Where is that fixture — the product of your own body and your lifeblood? The emptiness is almost unbearable.

Now, more than a year after our divorce has been finalized and residential custody arrangements have been settled, it still breaks my heart. And as smart as I am, it didn’t come into the equation when I was considering divorce.

eek..did I really say I love you?

Well, the cat is out of the bag.

Eric and I have been spending a lot more time together, and a lot more phone time. He’s one of those rare creatures that knows that you can’t ONLY text….so I get a call around once a night or every other night

As Eric is Eric, he’s sensitive, over-extended, he’s in the beginning part of actual divorce (as opposed to talking about divorce) with his nutcase wife,is seeing far less of his kids than usual, and not unexpectedly is having a tough time. Just to give an example of how overextended he is: he got off work at 9:00pm last night, has a training session at 7:00am today, and he volunteered to fill in for somebody in a (dumb-ass, imo, rutual) at church at 5:30 am. and he has a divorce mediation session in the afternoon!

My class wasn’t over last night until 9:30 so we didn’t even get to start to see each other till then (He surprised me and picked me up, instead of waiting for me to come home by subway). And he left my apartment this morning at 4:30. As in the morning.

I woke to his, um, gorgeous, but already fully clothed body, at 4:30. He didn’t want to wake me, just wanted to give a peck “goodbye.” But I insisted on a hug. After a quicky that betrayed tiredness, anxiety and a little guilt at having to leave so early, I gestured for him to come closer, and said, “really mean it.”

So now he’s on me and we’re having a proper (tho probably 10 second) passionate kiss goodbye, and I slipped. “I love you I whispered in his ear.” Gasp, went I, “I didn’t say that.” He smiled.

He left in the darkness and I fell back asleep deeply.

Xanga Withdrawal

Are you ever Xanga deprived?

I am right now. But I have mixed feelings.

There was a time when Xanga sucked up a good four hours a day. I didn’t let that last too long, because it was supplanting real life.

More recently I have found a balance. But now, I am too busy in “real” life to sit down and read what you and you and you, and especially you, are thinking.

I am soooo sorry.
I wish I could just pick up the phone and talk to you, and you, and you, especially. Or txt…that’s so efficient.

Anyway ever feel that way…that calling on the phone would be easier….or do you have withdrawal angst….or maybe relief that you’ve had a break?

The best complement

So…. I was sitting on my stoop, having a cigarette tonight after dinner.

and this young well spoken girl from somewhere else (I can’t remember which state) comes up to me and says….
“you look so peaceful.” I’m taking a photography class and I want to capture that ideal. Would you mind if I take your picture?  It’s so hard to find people like you in New York.”

Choosing to be alone

It occurs to me that most people assume I want to be remarried.

Those who wish me “all the best” in the next or last or current “fling” I’m having, are all well-meaning. There’s an assumption that I want to be in another “real” relationship. Not just a casual, eat dinner, talk, have sex, text, and play relationship.

Thanks much, but, you know what? I really like being alone most of the time. It’s not like I haven’t already done the long-term relationship thing. Actually more than once — I was with my ex for 20 years, and the longest relationship before that was a five year long one.

And, while I have a distaste for the idea of marriage, and probably always will, in all likelihood I probably will do the live-with-someone thing again. Sometime. In the future. When I’m thinking maybe I’d like to have somebody around the house in my twilight years, lol. But those years are pretty far off, even if I am getting close to the half-century mark.

I’m certain it’s a personality trait of mine. My brother, in contrast, cannot be alone. Very shortly after his divorce, he hooked up with a very loverly women and has been with her ever since. There hasn’t been a night that he hasn’t been with either her or his daughter. I think the very idea of being alone frightens him. Last summer, there were weeks when I was out in Montauk with my family. I’d put on a bikini, lie on a lawnchair, and open a book. My brother used to say, “You read too much!.” He, in contrast, was always out and about with someone, going out with someone, going to someone’s house. Fishing with his gf.

Me. I may be alone, but I never “feel’ alone. I don’t think it’s a fault. I don’t even work right now, but I rarely have a moment where I’m twiddling my thumbs. On the contrary, I’m trying to figure out, typically how I can squeeze in the things I love to do — I can’t even tell you how long it has been since I’ve stood in a painting studio with a model in front of me. Gosh…I wish I had time for that. And although there would be other artists around me, the very act of creation is a solitary one. The worst part of being in a class, is the damn teacher. Although the suggestions always made a better painting, I really just wanted to work it out myself.

Nowdays, I keep thinking I’ll have loads of extra time after the divorce cr-p is finally over and behind me. Relics of the divorce remain. Indeed, there are still two motions in front of the court: one on real estate and one on changing the parent mediator. And then of course, there’s motherhood! Don’t think for a second it gets easier when they get older. Emotionally the needs are greater. I may not be changing diapers, but I’m always there to talk to. Oh yeah, and you can’t just get away with a chopped salad for dinner, or doing your laundry every two weeks! There are doctor appointments, haircuts, clothing shopping. Fun stuff, sometimes tough stuff, being with my daughter. I wouldn’t trade it for the world, but I can’t say I don’t enjoy the weekends when my daughter is with my ex-husband.

But this post isn’t about time. It’s about relishing the time I have by myself. I just never feel lonely. Am I reading? Am I with my horse? Am I watching a movie? Am I making dinner or cleaning the house? Am I exercising?

I actually don’t want to walk in the door and see someone home! I remember, during the two post-9/11 years when my family moved to the hamptons. I set up a studio in a corner of the livingroom overlooking the bay. Rick was working on his computer-engineering project of the month upstairs, but would come downstairs for lunch, for snacks, to talk, to look at what I was doing. Yeah. All too often. I found it annoying. It ruined my concentration. How I longed for a studio with a locked door!!!

Even when I worked, one of the benefits of being an economist was my door. My office on the 41st floor of 7 World Trade Center overlooked World Trade Center #1 and the courtyard below. It had a window — great for contemplating the world and my current think piece, but better yet, it had a door.

Of course I had to venture out….discuss my week’s Econ piece with the Chief Economist, or walk down to the tradiing floor to bug the sales and trading guys (all but one was male) about what the latest development meant. Blessedly, I learned if you can’t say it in 30 seconds, it’s not worth saying (picked that up from the boys…..they wanted the bottom line & wanted it fast). Clients were a little different, meetings and phone conversations were usually 30 minutes to an hour. Perfect. Then back to my den!

Travel on the job was excellent. I often did dinner on my own, unless requested by a client. Not that I am shy. God no. I can talk up a storm with the best of them, but I always felt a flow of relief when I returned to my hotel room alone. And no. The first thing I did was never pick up the phone and call my husband-to-be-boyfriend!

So you see. I like being alone. I like the peace. I like the quiet. Of course I like dating. But I even feel good when I walk out the door, or he does. Back to my self. She’s not bad company.

Karma – Lessons from Buddism

Ok. I referred to Karma in my last post.

Since I’m reading this pile of books (pretty much all at once) on various ways to defeat negative emotions and some of the methods include ideas are borrowed from Zen, it’s time for the “Karma” lesson, lol!

First, you don’t have to believe in reincarnation to believe in some element of Karma. It’s kind of the idea of what comes around goes around and you can change that cycle by making amends. If you’re good to others, you’ll receive good back. And, of course, vice a versa. That was the Anita Version. Here’s the version from my little Zen bible.

The belief in Karma stems from the idea that we carry with us the good and the bad from previous lives. Much of what we are has come from a previous life. Yet we have the power to overcome those negative aspects of self and grow in wisdom and love.

Some believe what we do to others will be done to us in a future life. But, by good actions in this life, we may avoid such an outcome.

So, a sense of Karma urges us to overcome bad habits and accept responsibility for ourselves today despite the past.

Does this definition line up with what you think of as “karma?” Do you, like me, see elements of christianity in it, excluding the reincarnation part? Oh…have to ask this question: Do you believe in reincarnation, or, conversely, do you “wish” it were true?

I’m so happy! Sex is Good for Karma.

Having sex every day is definitely good for my soul and my Karma. This isn’t a sex post, so you’ll have to use your imagination while I tell you how the Karma is working out:

My cat is back from his second trip to the hospital in as many weeks….I decided to do the bladder operation to remove sand-like particles and crystals that risk blocking his urinary tract again and, basically, killing him. He’s not quite himself. But I wouldn’t be either, after what he’s been through. I washed him, because his hair looked matted, and I’m hand feeding him water with a srynge, because he doesn’t seem up to much.

My mom had her lumpectoimy….she is remarkably different now. She’s not wiped out and taking naps in the middle of the day or having heart palpatations. She sounds happy and energetic over the phone. Just shows what removal of stress can do.

Eric and I am seeing/talking/being with each other a lot. I’m trying not to take off my superman shield completely, although I know I love him on a number of levels. (No I’m not going to write a post about the different types of love there are…I’m sure someone has already done that) He’s in the beginning of the worst part of his divorce. Thankfully, he looks to me to talk to, rather than freak out on (like Peter). He’s so calm, even under the worst circumstances. I wish I was more like him. I admire him in many ways.

I dropped my laptop off my night-table (One of those middle-of the night bouts of clumsiness!), and now the screen is partially disconnected from the bottom (I have no idea how this thing still works). So I’m going to buy a new one. I can’t decide between HP Pavillian and Sony Viao. Going to go check them both out again now. Best Buy has a 0% financing deal so I would make payments over 18 months. I usually poo-poo things like this. But now that I’m up to speed on automatic bill paying (which means no chance of penalties), and I can’t see why I would give them my money now, rather than later. Finance 101.

Off to compare. I use my laptop pretty heavily: usually 4-5 apps going at the same time, watch movies, listen to music, run spreadsheets, etc. Don’t need a lot of memory, because I use dropbox.com to store all my files. Wiith multiple apps and audio/video needs, the only thing that I don’t do that requires speed and power is gaming. I want a big screen (17″), don’t care how heavy it is (I work out, right?) and want good sound. The Sony uses dolby and the HP uses “beats” which everyone seems to be talking about.

oh….And I went horseback riding on Zip yesterday. First time out in the sun and the Grand Prixe Arena was full of people doing 4′ jumps (which I do not do). So….I went on the grass where there was a bunch of cow rounding stuff but one doable 2′ jump. I thought. Great. We’ll do this. One direction was fine. The other, apparently all he could see was the “big creepy scary” shadow created by the 5:30pm sun hovering over the jump. At the last second, he changed his mind, and I wound up hitting my face and god knows what else on the standard (the wooden stand that holds up the jump) and down in the dirt! Zip — who everyone thinks of as lazy — took the opportunity to tear out of the arena at top speed. I was fine. He’s known to do this, so I’m pretty good at falling without hitting me head or doing any damage. In all, very funny. He was found in stall waiting for dinner. Just like a man!

(just kidding guys, but I couldn’t resist).

Anorexics at the gym — ‘come on mgment!

I recently joined what is perhaps considered one of the worst gyms in NYC.  It’s just up the block, though, and all I wanted to do was have a place to do my physical therapy exercises on non-PT days.  I need a stationary bike and a few machines, a mat, a large ball, and some weights.  So my needs were very small.

While I’ve been there it is hard not to notice the large number of women who are skeletal.  They put 200% effort into machines designed to make them sweat and keep there hip bones protruding, and their asses non-existent. The circumferences of some of these women’s legs is akin to the circumference of my upper arm.  They might as well have “Anorexic in Action” written on their foreheads.

So…today I ask to talk to management about any programs they might have for members with eating disorders. Maybe guest speakers who come in to discuss the difference between weight management, normal weight issues, and the line between healthy working out and disorder. 

Got to love it.  Although it was acknowledged that there are clearly a large numer of anorexics at the gym, ashe said,  the manager said, “there are legal problems….  We surely couldn’t approach overweight women. They are jeopardizing their health just as much…..It’s the same thing as an alcoholic. We can’t force them into a program….You have to understand. It’s a legal issue.”

Woosh! Did my point get totally missed?  Of course there can be fliers on desks about programs for those with problems, be it alcoholism rehab centers or eating disorder clinics.  Of course there can be free lectures made available from time to time to those interested in attending.  Legal issues, my ass.  

People just want to do their job. Get their paycheck and go home.

It brought back a memory of my resignation from New York Hospital, where I had a one-year stint as a “Play instructor.”   My job was to keep children occupied with play and art while their parents were participating in the methodone program, which included group therapy sessions. 

When I approached the director with art that clearly indicated sexual abuse, I was told to turn a blind eye. This was not my job and I was not to take any action under any circumstances.  My response was to resign.  

Here, at the health club, I’m just a client. But it makes me crazy how people can look at an opportunity to help people who are clearly in pain — show me an anorexic, and I will show you someone who hates her life, hates her obsession with food, hates her body, and doesn’t know how to get out of it — and look the other way.

Our conversation ended in her conceeding that the only way the club would intervene was if an anorexic passed out while working out. In that case, they would call an ambulance.

F-ck.

The Case for Sexual Experience

Here I am back again, indulging my need for a few posts on “cases against” and “cases for.”    First was marriage now comes sex.

I have a little pet peeve against those higher-than-thou’s who claim with pride to having had only one, or two, or heaven forbid, three sexual partners in their lives!  I’m not here to say “sex is just sex,” surprisingly enough.  My thinking is sort of the opposite. 

Who among us, with pride would claim to only watch The Simpsons as their sole T.V. viewing choice? Or even 60 minutes?   Or  Sean Connery?   Doesn’t matter. pick one or two or even three.

Who among us, with pride would claim to only like one kind of flower.  To plant only roses in the back yard or peach trees; after all peach trees give fruit that can be eaten.

Better yet, who, would proudly proclaim to only enjoy one type of cuisine.  Chinese it is! or Sushi! or Italian!  

Sure there are those, not me though,  who have never traveled from the comforts of their home, visited far lands, tasted new foods from far off lands. 

My first experience at an Ethiopian restaurant comes to mind: sitting in a low wooden stool, scooping perfectly seasoned dishes of meats and vegetables  with spongelike bread straight into my mouth! All my senses came alive, and my mind was opened to new possibilities, in much the same way I remember my first bit of raw fish 30 something years ago!

The pleasures of sniffing a new flower, or a pinch of cypress.  The first glimpse of the Titon Mountains and the momentary fear felt as a wild buffalo neared.  The ability to find joy and excitement in these varied experiences is nothing short of a gift. And we humans have it.

Not to demean the gentle beautiful animal we call cows, but we are not simply grass eating cud-chewing animals for whom routine predictability provides comfort, and is needed for stable existence and a feeling of safety.

So  it is with the various sights, smells, and tastes that enhance our existence.

And in that, I must include sexual experience.  My first was as different as my last, yet neither unmemorable and both spectacular.  

Despite the bad ending with “P,”  the sex was exhilarating and new.  My long affair with “X” was filled with mind-blowing sex of the sort I had never experienced before. And just last night, the long, slow, loving sex intertwined with passionate excess with “E” was something that lingered all day.  

Even the so-so sex I’ve had in my life – “F” comes to mind – was without regret; It probably didn’t work more because we didn’t have the “taste” for each other:   I never did like ice tea, but a fresh glass of lemonade….mmmm.   

Oh, of course there will be men who will worry if they were the best. They just don’t get it.   French food is not supposed to taste like Thai.  But it’s all good.

The Case Against Marriage

 

Many a little girl has grown up waiting for the day that she will walk down the church isle dressed in white with the man of her dreams.   Indeed, many a movie ends that very way. The implication being, “happily every after.”

 

Of the very very few marriages I know that have been sustained to the end, there was more than a little “unhappily” mixed in with the happily. Dare I say, there was even more of the former than the latter.

 

Yet even if every marriage was made of pure unadulterated sustained bliss, I have a hard time justifying the institution itself.  

 

For the romantics among us, marriage, I dare say has little to do with love.  Living together without that marriage contract say far more about love and comittment. 

 

Two people, straight, gay, or something in between, who choose to stay together, through thick and thin without a legal contract have defied gravity!    It is so easy to leave when there is no legal contract.   The two cohabitating people are together for one thing, and one thing only: They cannot imagine life any other way!

 

I know what it is to be in love like that, and to live my life with someone I was not married with because I wanted to, not because a piece of paper said I had to.   In fact, I even had a child with that person.   Not because I wanted to entrap him into marriage, but because we wanted each other and we wanted a child.  No contract was necessary.

 

I suspect the gay population wants the right to marry because it is a right they currently do not have – neither to reject or embrace.  That two people choose to live together, without the obligation, and with nothing but a few steps in the right direction to end it, means far more than a life-long relationship that is bound by law.    Any day.  

 

For those who are not convinced, I will tell you that marriage is nothing more than a financial contract. Try to get out of it and you will find out.  Any earnings you saved while married will be split.   A man likely will pay 25% of his income for child support if he’s had two kids with his wife.   A man likely will pay alimony for at least two years if his wife is in a lesser financial position than he is.    401k savings accumulated during the marriage will be split. Real estate assets will be divided.  Got a pension coming your way? For the rest of your life, half of it will go to your spouse. Male or female.

 

Doesn’t that sound romantic?

 

I have seen women become vengeful, men angry, and lives devastated by divorce.  It is a truism that only the attorneys get rich.    My own divorce, filed in 2006, seems hardly over, given we continue to have legal – mostly financial – issues.  Had I insisted on staying unmarried, as I did from 1990 to 2000, while me and my husband dated, loved, traveled the world, lived together, and (actually) had sex,   I would be more financially stable and my child would not be a pawn in this horrible divorce game. 

 

Ah, you say, that won’t happen to you, or you’ll be more civil. I wish you luck, because I have seen so many crumble.  

 

This post was inspired by a terrible thing that just happened to eric. Angry, vengeful, near-divorced wife with no income and three kids finds out he’s got me in his life.  I won’t give away the details, but her behavior was abhorrant and potentially devastating.  This doesn’t happen when one is living with another.  Want to go?   Just give me your set of keys, and we’ll call it a day.