That's what's been up with me. A lot.
School. Love. Kids. Life. Food. Money. Joy. Sorrow. Less exercise than I prefer. And no gluten.
I don't think I'll try to hit all of these subjects this morning (it has been a long hiatus, after all), but a couple of things are front-and-center at this very minute and I have to get some thought out of my academically enhanced cranium and out there into the ether.
First off, and this would relate to Life and Joy and Kids (and I suppose Money), today marks one year since Concert Katrina and I boldly picked up more than our fair share of furniture and kitchenware and moved them into Casa del Mar. I'm sure I've mentioned this before...I love this house. I love what it is. I love what it symbolizes. I love its energy. I love what it has done for me. I love the promise it holds. But I will not make a big to-do today about this. I understand that the joy I feel when I realize that I've been on my own for a year is not shared by my children. Though the last 12 months have been the most amazing of my life, my Three Little Diggs have not had it quite as easy. They've been plucked from a fairly simple life of life with Mom and Dad (though surely they sensed the miserable tension between us for quite some time). They have had to move from house to house each week. They've had to learn to be diplomats between parents. They've had to watch their mom date a different man. They've had to pick up new responsibilities. They have become children of divorce. And as easy as it is for me to say that it happens all the time and children are resilient, I personally have no way of knowing what they're really going through. All of this makes today's milestone no less sweet. It just will keep my celebration a quiet one.
School. School. School. Oh how I absolutely love school. This semester brings chemistry, physiology and human resource management. Okay, I could do without the HRM, but it's easy...whatever. Physiology is being taught by a dolt so I'm having to figure it out on my own. Chem...I completely dig. I don't know if my adoration for chem is so strong that it makes the whole semester tolerable or if I just love what I'm doing because of where I'm going, but I really am elated to be on this journey. Two years from now I'll be interning and before you know it, a certified dietitian. The future is so good.
Love. Joy. Sorrow. It's been six months since The Poet and I met. Three since we took it up a notch. It has been a beautiful something to experience. Except for when it isn't. Because it is a relationship. My journey through divorce was a long and arduous one. But I don't often remember that. I don't care to re-read the blog posts where I was a sniveling, whiny, weak girl who couldn't convince her husband to stay together for the kids. Once I'd gone to counseling and realized that we might all come out winners if we let it go, I could almost giggle about the failure of my marriage. When someone would ask me, "why did you get a divorce?" I'd joke back, "I ruined his life" or "He left because I took exercise away from him" (these were both accusations that were made against me in the long process, but hardly the whole of the reason). Fact is, I'm not the bee's knees. I am amply flawed. Now, don't go freaking out here. I know this is the first time you've encountered such a statement from me and it's a lot to take in all at once, but hear me out. I'm pretty selfish. I am a control freak. I'm pretty sure I'm right almost all of the time. I definitely know how to do it (whatever it is) better. And I certainly know what's best for you more than you do. So as we travel down the road of falling in love (and what a fabulous something-to-do it is) and we get to some of the harder parts of meshing families and souls, and we each dig through what made us ourselves and what makes us us, it turns out that maybe, just maybe, I'm partially to blame for the failure of my marriage. Maybe I don't know how to behave in a healthy relationship. Maybe I'm not ready for the give and take of a healthy partnership. Maybe all of the growing I've done in the last year is pretty much external and I now need to look to the inside. Maybe I'm a mess...a fun mess, but a mess nonetheless. There's a long story behind what I'm trying not to delve into...I will tell it if the time becomes right...but for now I will merely say that I have some work to do on me. Though The Poet and I have previously spoken quite freely of a "forever" aspect of us, it seems a little more tentative these days. I know I love him. I know that what we have shared thus far has been beautiful. But I also am learning that when holding someone's heart in your hands, careful attention is required. Each of us came in with damage from our previous relationships. He knew what his was, clearly spelled it out and asked for my mindfulness to that matter. I listened, made my own interpretation and continued living my life just as I pleased. And I hurt him. I broke a trust. No, I didn't cheat, but I masked a truth and I'll leave it at that. As for my own damage I bring to the table...I'm not even sure what it is. But I now know it's down there. I think it's time I dig through all of the happy-happy-joy-joy that I piled on top of it and see if there's a way to get to the bottom of who I am, so that I can become a better partner...someday. Whether The Poet and I make it, I don't know right now. In addition to our own fragile hearts, we have involved four little souls in our adventure, so careful handling is required in any case.
Now, the cute, quippy Jennifer might skip right to I-haven't-exercised-as-much-as-I-like-lately, but I think I've said more than enough for now. Growing has been a theme here on my mountain, I suppose. And it only makes sense that I'd eventually have to delve a bit deeper. Hmmmm. Once again, I'm curious who and where I'll be in a month...or year. Good thing I like surprises.