Crisis Management

This past week, something very troubling and sad happened in our lives, something that many of you may have seen on the news.  My daughter’s second grade teacher was arrested and charged with the possession and creation of child pornography.  This event was disturbing on so many levels, but the one that I want to mention is that it made me question my ability to trust people, especially men.

Layla’s teacher was a truly amazing and dedicated educator, and the allegations against him made me wonder what secrets each of us is keeping.  My faith in humanity was truly rocked.  This man, whom so many parents and children adored, had a secret life that was not only illegal but also quite harmful to the same people that he professed to care about.  The irony of this situation was quite painful and confusing for me.

Fortunately, a silver lining appeared in this incredibly dark cloud that was hovering above me.  People started reaching out and demonstrating a tremendous amount of kindness.  As is always the case, my Facebook community responded with overwhelming support.  I disagree with the criticisms made about the superficiality of social media connections because my online community has buoyed me in several moments of turmoil, and their love and admiration for my response to this situation helped restore my faith not only in humanity but also in the role of the Internet in our society (very bad for the dissemination of child porn, excellent for social support).  In addition, the parents at my kids’ school reached out to me, and we shared and bonded in a profound way that wouldn’t have been possible if not for a crisis that made us forget about our busy schedules and take time to talk to each other in a meaningful way.

In this difficult time, I want to mention two people who were particularly supportive to me, two people whose presence in my life I appreciate so much: my ex husband and Jon.  When I first heard the news, my immediate reaction was to call my ex.  It didn’t matter that we had just had a disagreement over plans for the kids’ February break about five minutes before.  I knew he’d care.  And I knew that he would listen to me.

I literally sobbed on the phone.  The mere fact that we could turn to each other in a time of crisis was so important.  No matter how much anyone cares about our kids, no one has the love and investment in them that we both do.  As a divorced couple, we don’t get to share that daily.  However, due to our peaceful relationship and continued friendship, we do have the ability to bond over the big things.  It was very helpful for me (and for him too, I believe) to process this together.

Jon was another great source of support.  I was really blunt with him about how this was coloring my view of men and eroding my ability to trust.  He said something that might seem small to some, but spoke volumes to me.  He reassured me that I could trust him.  He reminded me that he had been honest with me from day one.  As I had mentioned in an earlier post, sometimes that honesty seemed too much for me.  I wanted a rosy, romantic view of him.  Yet in this moment, when I was feeling a devastating lack of trust, I realized how right he had been.  By being forthright with me, he showed me an integrity that not all people are capable of.  And that felt really comforting.

So here I am, once again attempting to find the positive lesson in a very trying situation.  My heart was deeply saddened by the news that someone that my family had admired and trusted had allegedly betrayed that trust.  And it temporarily closed down.  Yet the presence of so many good people (and I use that word deliberately) in my life ended up opening it up wider than it had been before.

Maybe now you can see why I work to keep my exes in my life.  They enrich it in so many ways.  And for that, I am extremely grateful.

Change of Relationship Status

My parents recently celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary.  They met on a blind date, got engaged three dates later, and were married within six months (three of which my mother spent alone in Europe).  This kind of impulsive, romantic love has become a big part of our family lore.   My sister and I were a bit more cautious, yet we fell in love very quickly with our future spouses and within months were living with them.   I guess you could say that excitement and optimism over love’s potential is a family trait.

When Jon and I started our relationship, I thought I might show some restraint.   I know that infatuation doesn’t always last and that it takes time to see if true compatibility exists.   Yet Jon’s enthusiasm was infectious, and within mere weeks we were talking about moving in together.   As we relished in our new found connection, we fantasized about buying a place, and he sent me real estate listings and spreadsheets on how we could afford them.  We made daily Facebook updates about our amorous adventures.   A month later I met his family during the Thanksgiving holiday.   Two months later he came to California to meet mine.   I was thrilled at the thought of having found a future life partner, especially one with so much energy, zeal for life, and dedication to family.

Yet as many love stories do, this one has come to an end.   I think it started back in December when I noticed him getting more distant, distracted, and moody.  When we were together, he was spending more time checking his iPhone and less time looking me in the eye.  I tried to reach out and talk to him about it, but to no avail.  I found myself playing a Joni Mitchell lyric over and over in my head, “I sat up all the night and listened to thee/ Just to see who in the world you might be/ And what you might mean to me.”  In his words, Jon still showed the same commitment to our relationship, but I was starting to wonder if this was the kind of relationship that I wanted because I like to have a strong, constant, and intimate connection with my partner.

I spoke with my family and friends, especially those with spouses who worked long hours and traveled a lot to see how they dealt with the moments of separation and potential disconnection.  I told myself to accept him on his terms, to focus on what I liked best about him and our relationship, and I tried not to give too much attention to my concerns.  Yet I also set an intention at the New Year to gain some clarity on the situation.

When we returned to California, he brought up the question again of cohabitation.  I said that we should think about it, and, as I often do when I am trying to figure something out, I blogged about it. I tried to imagine what our life might be like together.  On Monday, after we hadn’t seen each other in a week, and hadn’t been alone in two weeks, I felt the need to talk to him about how I felt that we weren’t connecting.  He didn’t know how to respond to me, clammed up, and said that he couldn’t talk at that moment since he was at work, which was understandable, yet it had been his suggestion to talk that morning.

Later that day, in another attempt to process my feelings, I wrote a blogpost about our past mistakes and how to avoid allowing them to ruin our present relationships.  Ironically, it did just that.  Jon felt very hurt by the post and wanted to talk to me about it right away.  At that point, I was with my kids so it was impossible to talk on the phone for long.  So we started an email and IM exchange where a lot of our feelings and frustrations were finally aired.

I took the post down and edited it.  I sent it to a few close friends, asking for their input.  I was having a really hard time understanding why he was so upset about what I wrote, then he got angry that I didn’t understand him nor show sufficient compassion and sensitivity.  Then I got frustrated that he was so willing to talk about his concerns, when I felt that he had dismissed my concerns earlier in the day.  We basically hit an impasse.

The next day, clarity came to me.  We made plans for him to come over after the kids’ bedtime to talk.  I knew that there were two options: that we were going to decide that we were emotionally incompatible or we would find a way to take some concrete steps to improve our communication and connection.  He decided on the former.

This morning, as I drove my kids from a dentist appointment, a song by the Tedeschi Trucks band caught my attention on the radio.  “I’m gonna learn how to love you. I’m gonna show you show me how.”  I guess we never really learned how to love each other, at least in the way that each wanted to be loved.  Yet is true love something we learn or does it come naturally?  I don’t know, but I do know that I learned a tremendous amount about myself in this whole process.  And I truly believe that I have gained a dear friend along the way because when I care about someone, a breakup can’t change that.  I’ve had a change of relationship status (which Facebook has duly noted), not a change of heart.

We Have No Secrets

Okay, today I’m taking on an even tougher topic than co-habitation (if there is one more difficult than that).  It’s the issue of our past mistakes and how much we share them with a new partner.  Love the second time around is different because now we have a pretty colorful history.  Some of it is wonderful, and some of it is, frankly, regrettable.  Part of moving on, clearly, is learning from our mistakes so as not to repeat them.  Yet, in order to do that, must we share, or confess even, our past errors to our new partners?

I tend to think that in the beginning of a relationship, you want to put your best foot forward and show what a great partner you can be.  Of course, I am a huge optimist that always looks for the good in people, and I can be blind to people’s faults (which is usually a good trait).  However, every now and then a voice of doubt creeps into my head and makes me wonder if history is doomed to repeat itself.

A year ago, I wrote a blog piece on this topic, but I never published it.  Back then I was listening to my friends talk about their lovers.  One friend was devastated to receive a phone call from her boyfriend’s ex-wife, regaling her with horror stories from their past.  Another friend was concerned because her lover admitted that he had cheated on his wife, and she was fearful that once a cheater, one is always a cheater.  Yet another man told me that he ended a relationship with a woman because of the problems that she had with her daughter.  He was concerned that indicated that she would not make a good step-mom.

All of these friends are quite politically liberal.  One works for a social justice organization; another is on the board of directors of a local anti-poverty group; the third is a therapist.  As I heard them talk about their lovers’ pasts, I kept thinking, shouldn’t our political and philosophical beliefs dictate that we give them a second chance?  If we are working for social change, shouldn’t we also believe that personal improvement is possible?  Should marital infidelity or other relationship mistakes be a black mark on someone’s record rendering them as unlovable as an ex-convict is unemployable?

Yet now that it is me who is going through such a situation, I can see much more clearly why my friends were feeling insecure.  I really do believe that people can change.  I’ve seen it happen in myself and in others.  I do think that we can learn from our mistakes and be not only productive members of society, but also skilled practitioners of relationships.  In short, I want to judge someone’s potential by how he treats me now, not how he treated someone else five years ago.  I want to be a compassionate lover who accepts and loves my partner despite his flaws (man, we all have them).  Nevertheless, Carole King’s song “We Have No Secrets” keeps popping into my mind. “Sometimes I wish.  Often I wish that I never knew some of the secrets of yours.”  Followed by Sheryl Crow’s “Lie to me. I promise I’ll believe.”

So, my friends who are experiencing love for the second time around, how do you deal with this issue?  How do you listen compassionately to your partner when they share difficult past experiences without worrying that they might come back to haunt your current relationship?  How do you have an honest and open relationship without judging your partner?  Is there such thing as unconditional love?  I hope so.

My First Thanksgiving Without the Kids

The kids just left with my ex and his girlfriend.  They are driving to the DC area to see his sister and his mother, who is flying up from Puerto Rico.  This is the first time that Jonah and Layla will see their grandmother and their cousins in about six years.  They were very excited, and I was happy to see that.

However, it must be said that this is going to be my first Thanksgiving without the kids, and I am also feeling sad.  In past years, my ex has come to my house, and we have celebrated as a family.  I love to cook, and the kids’ godparents usually join us.  This year is a departure from that tradition.  Considering how much our lives have changed since my move to Boston, I guess it is a change that makes sense.

As I stood outside the kids’ school waiting to pick them up today, I felt an aching in my heart and a lump in my throat.  Yet, the longer I stood there, the more I realized that I was lucky to be able to pick them up from school like I do because my ex doesn’t do that anymore.  I know that he feels sad to be missing out on that mundane yet also meaningful ritual.  Certainly, there are many parents, married or divorced, that miss key events in their kids’ lives because of their jobs or other responsibilities.  It is hard to make it to everything, and it is literally impossible to be with them for every important moment because some of them have to be experienced without parental involvement.  This thought made me feel better.

I may not get to experience this Thanksgiving dinner with them, but I get to have my own fun.  I am going on a road trip with my new boyfriend Jon.  We are heading to Philadelphia tomorrow night to eat a deep-fried turkey with one of his brothers.  His sister-in-law is going to take me to a yoga class with her (clearly my kind of woman).  On Friday we are heading to New York City to pick up Jon’s son, and then we go North to Vermont to eat yet another meal with a different brother.  On Sunday we are swinging back to Northampton to pick up the kids at my ex’s place.  Jonah wants to show Jon and his son his favorite Noho spots, namely Sam’s Pizzeria and GoBerry.  Finally, we return to Newton, hopefully with enough time for Jon to make a fort with the boys, as per Jonah’s request.

I am really excited about these plans.  It’s fun not having to plan and cook a big meal.  It’s fun getting to be someone’s guest and meet new people.  It’s fun to explore new places, even at a whirlwind pace.  And it will be great to be with Jon for one of his favorite pastimes: driving.

As I got a little choked up as the kids left, Layla promised to call me everyday, and Jonah looked me in the eye and said “I know that you will miss us, but you have Jon.”  I think that made him feel better, knowing that I won’t be alone and will be having my fun too.

In divorce, sometimes you just have to admit that you can be both sad and happy.  Sad that you may not be with your kids all the time, sad that you lost a meaningful love relationship, sad at how things have changed.  Yet at the same time, there is much to rejoice in.  In my case, I am happy to be living in a fun new city, happy that I have a great new job that is challenging me in exciting ways, and thrilled that I have started a relationship with a kind, funny, generous, and loving man.  At this holiday of gratitude, I can’t help but acknowledge the momentary sting of my children leaving.  Yet more than anything, I choose to focus on, and give thanks for, the abundant, sweet goodness of my life.

What I Do When I’m Lonely

I have been so busy with my move, learning my new job, enrolling the kids in school, making new friends, trying out yoga studios, dating and being a tourist in my new city of Boston that I haven’t had a single moment to myself to think or write.  Yesterday was my first day of alone time in which I really didn’t have any major projects to accomplish.  Damn, was it scary.  I felt completely lost, and, frankly, very lonely and homesick for Northampton.  However, as all difficult moments are for me, it ended up being a good opportunity to reflect upon how I handle the occasional pang of loneliness and sadness.
Many divorcees write to me about how hard the transition into part-time custody is for them.  Not only do we miss our kids, but we also don’t always know how to have time off for ourselves.  It’s a foreign concept for most working parents who go at break neck speed all day (and night) long.  It can be very disorienting to have unstructured time to yourself.

When I was living in Northampton, most of my free time was taken by yoga classes followed by nights out with friends.  Even if I didn’t have a social engagement, I always knew the cafes and bars that I could go to when I wanted to see people, and usually I would end up running into a friend and having a good time.  I don’t have places like that yet in Boston so here are the following activities that I did to fill my time and feel better.  Maybe some of them will resonate with you.

1)   Pamper yourself. I decided to give myself a much-needed pedicure, and I also bought a new hair dryer.  Sometimes we are too busy to really even focus on our looks, and it feels good to primp and preen a little bit.

2)   Catch up on house projects. I mowed the lawn yesterday when I was feeling restless.  It was something that I needed to get done, and the activity and the fresh air lifted my spirits.

3)    Go grocery shopping. I have noticed in the past that there are often attractive men in the Whole Foods market.  Last night I went shopping around 7 pm, and the store was teeming with eligible bachelors (because who else shops on a Saturday evening?).  Several guys gave me smiles and prolonged eye contact.  It totally boosted my mood.  If I had been really brave, I might have struck up a conversation with one of them in the produce aisle or something.

4)   Call a friend who will make you laugh. I have so many people that I love to talk to on the phone and often don’t have enough time to really catch up with them.  Last night I called my sister, and she told me a story that had me in hysterics (as my sister often does).  The endorphin rush from the laughter really helped.  And that happened right before the guys smiled at me in Whole Foods.  Maybe I was glowing from that.

5)    Read a good book. I tried to watch a movie on television but it just depressed me even more.  I probably picked a bad one (it was called “A Single Man”).  So I picked up my book instead, The Bastard on the Couch.  It is a fascinating and often funny collection of essays by men reflecting on the difficulties of relationships and fatherhood.  It made me chuckle, and it also gave me some great food for thought.

So yes, I do get blue sometimes.  Maybe these tips will come in handy if you find yourself alone and at a loss for what to do.  And if you have any of your own, I’d love to hear them.