My oldest son graduated from high school in 2002. Which was the same year I got my real estate license, and the same year things started to change for me.
Recovering from divorce takes time, and money. I had spent the time healing from it, taking care not to drink or do anything destructive. That is except date a guy who was destructive.
How I missed the signs of emotional abuse from the beginning is beyond me.
He was an angry controlling man who lashed out at me and his daughter. What a complete mess I was in. I wrote before that it would take three events for me to finally break free of him. Continue reading
When 2000 rolled around, I was a 40-year-old single mother of two teenage boys, starting over with no education or career. My job had been, stay-at-home mom, helper, maid, taxi service, farmer and wife for a lot of years. Starting over was not going to be a cakewalk.
At the time I thought 40 was old, or at the very least on the verge of old. I was embarrassed to be starting over at such a rip old age. Oh what I wouldn’t give to go back and tell that young lady a few things. Now I’m closing in on 60 and trying very hard not to see myself as old again.
starting over at age 40
Authenticity is the new buzz word, and I believe a new online movement as well.
Last week, a woman I follow on social media posted a story and video of herself that completely changed my view of her. She is beautiful, stylish, upbeat and lives in a beach town. My view of her was, “how lucky”. I only saw one side of her, that is until after her video. Continue reading
The #MeToo Campaign has been going on for a few months now, and ever single time I see a Me Too post, my stomach knots up, my throat closes and I have to choke back tears. Every single time.
A year ago, my son wrote this open letter to his daughters, my granddaughters. I am asking you to read it, digest it, and share it. Please join me in a new campaign to help the next generation to be filled with #NotMe and #NotUs. Continue reading
…continued from Pieces of the Puzzle
After yesterdays post it took three siblings and me to piece together the sequence of events from that time. I was off by a year. The years following our mother’s death was a blur of disappointment.
But it was 3am Christmas morning, 1971 that our father called my sister Janet downstairs to take him to the hospital. She was just 16 and the only one at home with a driver’s license. Continue reading
I’m learning that my life is analogous to a big jigsaw puzzle. All of the pieces are there, but not together. And to make it even more difficult, I don’t have a picture to go off.
Photo courtesy of Hans Peter Gauster
You are helping me find the picture. Continue reading
Just before my 40th birthday, I got a job in sales for a local furniture/interior decorations store, in a big two story building in the heart of downtown Bend.
It was a bit surreal to be working downtown after all of these years. The last time I’d worked there, was in 1978 when I was 19. Part of starting over after a divorce is taking a step backwards. For me, this was a giant step backwards. Continue reading
I learned about science as a kid, and sometimes first hand. We were that poor family who had old cars on our property and I would play in them at times. Like the old DeSoto that had a steering wheel so big I could sit in it and roll from side to side swinging myself about.
That old car also had a few things stored in it. There was an old musty army tent taking up the entire back seat, and one day it caught fire. The sun had hit the back window, which acted like a magnifying glass and set the tent to blaze.
Which almost happened to my face this morning. Continue reading
I absolutely loved every minute of being pregnant. It helped being 24, fit and in great health. I was ready to be a mom, and when the test came back positive, I was overjoyed.
A few people told me I was too young, but in my heart I was ready. I’d read all of the books and followed every instruction to take excellent care of my body.
The due date was set for January 10, 1984, but my little one was ready early. On the morning of December 30th, I knew I was going to meet my first child that day. As it turned out, my husband and I had sold a home two years prior and our taxes would be due in 1983 on the sale. Our son showed up in the nick of time for us to declare him as a dependent for that year, essentially cancelling out any owed taxes.
And that pretty much sums up our first son. He’s a bit of a rescuer. But I’m getting ahead of myself; let me back up a bit.
I hate that I don’t have a dishwasher. We live in a house that’s about 120 years old. It’s a Victorian that got converted into apartments years ago. Our place was the main living area of the house. There’s a big living room with large pocket doors to the now kitchen.
The kitchen was not the original and has this one tiny countertop with one sink in it. That’s it. I had to buy an island so I would have a surface to prepare food on. Oh, and the bathroom…it’s right next to that one sink.
I have been fortunate to meet so many amazing bloggers online, and Cat Coluccio has proven to be an exceptional treasure indeed. The more I learn about her, the more impressed I am. She gives us a taste of her background on her Rocking Midlife blog… Continue reading
When my husband and I made the decision to separate and divorce we agreed we were going to be the couple that could do it the right way. What we hope for and what becomes reality can be quite different.
I’ve heard it said that whatever you are fighting about during your marriage is also what you fight about during the divorce. I had no idea just what a fight I was in for. We couldn’t agree on anything. Continue reading
Getting a divorce after 18 years of marriage and having two kids is not an easy thing to do.
And it hurts. A lot. For everyone involved.
For that reason, it was extremely important for us to try everything we could to repair our marriage. I’m proud of the fact that we tried to find the answers, for years. It was no easy decision to end it and wasn’t taken lightly by either of us. But once the decision was finally made, a new set of problems arose. Continue reading
Time for another video of my Let’s do this Together series.
Please excuse the bloopers, swear words and interruptions! All of my videos are from the first take and not edited. My goal is to just be me, and yes, sometimes I swear. I also intend to keep them short and sweet. But this one went from laughing to swearing to laughing to crying. What the heck?
I’ve been called out a few times for sharing too much here on my blog. Every time this happens it shakes me slightly. I start to question my motives, and self-doubt creeps in. Which is interesting, because working through self-doubt is really why I’m doing this.
Most of my life I’ve been told to be quiet and keep my ‘dirty laundry’ hidden. Other people have told me how I should be acting, what I should be saying, how I am supposed to think, and even how I’m supposed to look.
I want to stay on the farm…at least in my memory. Continuing the story is going to be hard for me. There are things that I’m embarrassed about, or wish I would have done differently. And most of those happened after we sold the farm.
If you’ve been reading along, you already know my marriage was pretty rocky right from the start. I can’t pin point one thing or say I know exactly what happened, it was more of a chipping away. After many years of this, there was nothing left to save.
At least that’s how I felt about it. I know my husband felt differently.
I’ve always been more of the “destination” type of person versus the “journey” sort. I just want to get there, as fast as I can. I’m learning to change that slowly, partly thanks to my husband.
If there is a long way to get somewhere, he will find it. That man loves taking the back roads. Most times when we would get a chance to go visit our granddaughters, who lived about three and a half hours away, it would be a journey. A few times when my daughter in law would text me to find out our ETA, I would send back just two words “John’s driving”. She knew to tack an extra half hour on to our arrival time.
I could write a hundred different posts about our time on the farm. It was some of the best years of my life. But there were trials for me also. Finding and holding onto friendships in my 30’s was challenging and I lost a few friends along the way.
I read once that we tend to build friendships around our kids when we are new parents, and I can see that was true with me. But one of my friendships started the other way around. Shelly and I became friends first, which lead to our children becoming friends.
As with many families, we women lead the way in organizing family get-togethers and we all had a great time at barbecues, dinners and picnics. This went on for years, until one day it all stopped.
I’ve made some decisions I’m very proud of and perhaps the best one was giving my boys a country/farm experience when they were growing up.
My boys spent their youth outside running, playing up in the tree fort, climbing trees, chasing bullfrogs, taking care of animals, and helping with all of the farm chores. We didn’t have cable television, and it was before the Internet, but they got plenty of entertainment outside.
I know I’m supposed to be over this, and it’s probably silly that I’m not, but I don’t know how to let it go. I’ll try to explain what it’s like, maybe you will be able to understand or relate.
I feel like I’m always on ice. That I’m standing on a frozen lake going about my day. Most of the time, the ice is thick and supports me and I am fine. There are times when I’m skating and happy and laughing. Some of the time, it’s a bit slippery and I fall or lose my balance.
And then every once in a while, the ice cracks and I fall through in an instant. I can’t breath, it’s ice cold and I’m scared to death. A few seconds later I realize the water is only three feet deep and all I have to do is stand up.
That’s when I get embarrassed and feel ashamed that I’ve acted like a child. There’s no need to cry or be afraid, it’s just a little cold water, stand up, you’re fine Loretta.