Yesterday was my birthday. Today is my birthday, too. That's what happens when your life is split between two continents.
It seems like just a blink ago, I was single, preparing for the big four-o and having myself a proper midlife crisis. So, so, much can happen in the span of five years.
The best thing, hands down, was to have met and married Dallas. When I was fifteen and thought myself invincible, I foolishly accepted a ride home from a stranger one night. That turned out to be an exceptionally poor decision on my part and unfortunately, the events of that evening negatively impacted my relationships with men for years. By the time I divorced the father of my children, I was an angry, bitter, cynical woman. I was so broken that I wouldn't even consider dating. All my time was invested in carrying on the argument with my ex, punishing him, and trying, in vain, to get him to see my point of view, which is really screwed up when you consider how little respect I had for his opinion. I was so determined to win the battle of wills that for a long time, I lost the bloody plot.
At some point, a few years into the separation, I was exhausted with the fight. I was so tired of being angry. My mum and I were chatting on the phone one day and she said she was surprised that I continued to allow all of the best parts of myself to be sucked into the conflict with my ex. She asked, "Haven't you given him enough years of your life?" And that was all it took. The lightbulb came on. I had to take a frank look at myself and to get real about my part in the dysfunction. It's never one sided, of course, but admitting that and understanding that my choice to participate in the argument had more to do with how I felt about myself than any character flaw he may have possessed....well, that was hard. When I finally took responsibility for assuming the role of a victim, I was liberated. It was as simple as that.
Then the real healing, the getting on with my life, began. Still, though, I believed that deep, abiding, love, the stuff of movies and romance novels, was a big pile of horse pucky. Oh sure, I'd had strong feelings for some but I chalked them up to immaturity, infatuation and the desire to be in a relationship. I just did not believe that a happy marriage was a reality for most people and I felt divorce statistics were only half the story. I was convinced that inside most marriages, dwelled two unhappy people who stayed together for all the wrong reasons. There was a wee part of me, however, brainwashed by Disney and ruined by Harlequin publishers, that secretly carried a glimmer of hope that some day, I'd find "the one".
The best thing, hands down, was to have met and married Dallas. When I was fifteen and thought myself invincible, I foolishly accepted a ride home from a stranger one night. That turned out to be an exceptionally poor decision on my part and unfortunately, the events of that evening negatively impacted my relationships with men for years. By the time I divorced the father of my children, I was an angry, bitter, cynical woman. I was so broken that I wouldn't even consider dating. All my time was invested in carrying on the argument with my ex, punishing him, and trying, in vain, to get him to see my point of view, which is really screwed up when you consider how little respect I had for his opinion. I was so determined to win the battle of wills that for a long time, I lost the bloody plot.
At some point, a few years into the separation, I was exhausted with the fight. I was so tired of being angry. My mum and I were chatting on the phone one day and she said she was surprised that I continued to allow all of the best parts of myself to be sucked into the conflict with my ex. She asked, "Haven't you given him enough years of your life?" And that was all it took. The lightbulb came on. I had to take a frank look at myself and to get real about my part in the dysfunction. It's never one sided, of course, but admitting that and understanding that my choice to participate in the argument had more to do with how I felt about myself than any character flaw he may have possessed....well, that was hard. When I finally took responsibility for assuming the role of a victim, I was liberated. It was as simple as that.
Then the real healing, the getting on with my life, began. Still, though, I believed that deep, abiding, love, the stuff of movies and romance novels, was a big pile of horse pucky. Oh sure, I'd had strong feelings for some but I chalked them up to immaturity, infatuation and the desire to be in a relationship. I just did not believe that a happy marriage was a reality for most people and I felt divorce statistics were only half the story. I was convinced that inside most marriages, dwelled two unhappy people who stayed together for all the wrong reasons. There was a wee part of me, however, brainwashed by Disney and ruined by Harlequin publishers, that secretly carried a glimmer of hope that some day, I'd find "the one".
The truth is, there are lots and lots of "the ones" out there. There are heaps of men with whom I could have fallen in love but Dallas was the first to cross my path after I had decided to be happy and I can't tell you how grateful I am for his timing. I learned that it was less about finding the "right man" ( I cringe even thinking about that) than fixing the broken part of me that was attracted to people who were equally damaged. I stopped expecting perfection , which was just a tool that I used to avoid commitment. After our third date, I realized that I liked how I felt about myself when I was with Dallas and that's when I knew.
My husband, like me, is flawed. I have no prince-on-a-white-horse expectations for him. Our relationship is devoid of pedestals and sometimes we argue. At the end of most days though, you will find us snuggled in our bed, talking or reading. We hold hands. Without a doubt, that last hour or so of our day is the best part of it for me. Dallas is a lovely, lovely man. The quality of my life with him is something I could never have imagined. Being in this marriage has enabled me to be a better mother, daughter, friend and entrepreneur. It has profoundly changed my life and the lives of my children. I believe Dallas would tell you the same thing.
My husband, like me, is flawed. I have no prince-on-a-white-horse expectations for him. Our relationship is devoid of pedestals and sometimes we argue. At the end of most days though, you will find us snuggled in our bed, talking or reading. We hold hands. Without a doubt, that last hour or so of our day is the best part of it for me. Dallas is a lovely, lovely man. The quality of my life with him is something I could never have imagined. Being in this marriage has enabled me to be a better mother, daughter, friend and entrepreneur. It has profoundly changed my life and the lives of my children. I believe Dallas would tell you the same thing.
So yesterday and today, waking up to a gorgeous Auckland summer morning, I couldn't help but reflect back to my fortieth birthday and how I could never have imagined that my world would look like this a mere five years later. While I can't quite comprehend the number, "FORTY-FIVE", I've got to admit that I wouldn't trade a second of my forties for all of the other decades combined.
1 comment:
and a very, very happy birthday to you!!!!!
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