So the week went by (again another) and I realize that when I step back and look at myself (life) for the last stretch of time and look for an inkling of evolution of growing better, stronger...oh, you know, more evolved, settling into "me" and who I am to be in this next half of life, divorced and starting over.... and I look and can't tell...Am I cracking, or cracking myself open?
I left a marriage that needed to be left years ago. Cracking myself open.
I started writing again. Cracking myself open.
I started to work on "me" (who am I anyway?). Cracking myself open.
I went from being a long tenured stay-at-home mother (garnished with a cum laude degree from a well respected college preceded by four years at a college preparatory school) to being in complete financial ruin, broke, re-entering the working world with an expired skill set, earning a pittance for an hourly wage, and standing in line at a local community organization with pile of utility bills, proof of mine and my kids' identities, copies of my pathetic paystubs, and applying for fuel assistance to get us through the winter. Cracking? Or Cracking myself open. That moment in that line, I think it was both. A crazy storm inside me. Where hope met fear and failure. New pride in my courage and resourcefulness. Fear of whether I could survive and support my family, and feeling like a failure for somehow getting us here. Not shame though. Fiery fear and vulnerability. #brenebrown
I walked away from a man who abused my children (two of the three) and stepped into a line where I needed the help of strangers and the system to help me. I came from a 2,900 sf home in the suburbs, I knew nothing about the "system" other than the banter on the 6 o'clock news or that volleyed across the dinner table while I was growing up with privilege as I did.
When you are cracking and cracking open, the wind isn't always at your back.
I received $675 off of my winter fuel bill for our New England family of four. Thank you to all of you strangers who put your time and money and compassion into even the tiniest piece of that happening for my family. Just so you others know (those on the bitter side of the politics for such assistance) , people aren't all out there "beating the system", some of us are trying not to crack.
Peace for Here and Now,
Ella Reese
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Saturday, May 10, 2014
To Be or Not to Be ,,Alike
While others wished it away, the cloud cover and threat of showers at the baseball game was a welcome sight to me. I guess I feel sometimes more aligned with it than bright sunshine right now. Its as if the cloudy or rainy weather lets my 'drag' seem less in contrast to the rest of the world's 'drive'. Everyone slows down and quiets down on rainy days.
I shunned my unquiet mind at the game and ignored the constantly streaming story it tells. Checked out of my mind and into the moment. I enjoyed some laughs and conversation with a few of the other moms. I worry about being judged by people a lot - not being good enough - and getting divorced has launched that sensitivity to all new heights.
One of the moms who only recently learned of my divorce was talking with me about it at the field. She is in the group of moms that are the moms of my son Astyn's friends. It made me feel nervous that it came up, but then it also made me feel good in a way, too. It's like this "thing" that is always hovering around ..that people don't know what to do with. I figure it must be a lot like what happens when someone has cancer or has just lost a loved one, and people get so stuck in their own uncertainty that they do not know what to say or do about it. The discomfort is almost palpable. And what they don't know is it makes it worse when they say nothing. So when Kelly started to talk to me and ask questions, and I felt her genuine compassion, I felt a moment of belonging.
Belonging to me has always meant "being like". I have always thought I could be liked if I was alike. Yes, alike. I had to be alike in order to be liked. Imagine, being in my 30s and 40s and thinking that way. I know where so much of that comes from, but that is another blog post. Or, it may actually be an entirely different blog altogether. So Kelly's questions and interest and the ease and comfort I showed of hearing and answering the questions, brought another mom into the conversation too. Another mom who I see all the time who hasn't ever spoken a (divorce) word to me. She too was so supportive and kind. There were a few of the dreaded coined phrases "you did what was best for your family" and " you had to do what you had to do for your kids" that were popped up like red flags for when the conversation or information must have been too much for them. like crying "uncle" for a minute. As in, I am so uncomfortable right now, I am not sure what else to say. I get it. It makes sense. I learned a little about the other side of the conversation today. A little about how their silence may not be that they don't accept me but that they just don't know what to say.
If they only knew how much their conversation means to me and how isolating it can be to be newly divorced and in a really small town that evidently is profoundly divergent from the 50%-of-all-couples-divorce standards that are claimed to exist outside of our bubble here. I feel like one of very few. On that note and in a parting word,..I took Astyn out for pizza tonight one-on-one while his two older siblings Madelyn and Tristyn were off doing something else for a while. While sitting across the table just having finished a game of straw-paper-wadded-up-to-be-a-hockey-puck table hockey, I asked him how the weekly gathering at school was going on Fridays - a gathering he astutely named "Divorce Class" eventhough it goes by the name of "Banana Splitz" for children of divorce in the elementary school. They get together once a week for 45 minutes and do games and activities with the school psychologist. Astyn told me about an activity they did this week where they had to color a page of paper and that they had a chart for what feeling each color stood for. He explained to me that red was angry and that using lots of red meant you were very angry. I said "oh yes, red, does seem like a hot color and that hot and burning does seem like it could be like angry" and asked him if he used red in his drawing. He said "no". He said "I used blue". I said "what does blue mean? Is blue good?" and he said "yes blue is good". And I said "what color did you use the most in your picture?" and he said "Hope". I said "Hope? Hope is not a color?" and he said "yes it is, orange was the color of hope and I colored almost my whole paper orange because I hope that daddy can live with us again". And that,...is another blog post.
Peace for Here and Now,
Ella Reese
One of the moms who only recently learned of my divorce was talking with me about it at the field. She is in the group of moms that are the moms of my son Astyn's friends. It made me feel nervous that it came up, but then it also made me feel good in a way, too. It's like this "thing" that is always hovering around ..that people don't know what to do with. I figure it must be a lot like what happens when someone has cancer or has just lost a loved one, and people get so stuck in their own uncertainty that they do not know what to say or do about it. The discomfort is almost palpable. And what they don't know is it makes it worse when they say nothing. So when Kelly started to talk to me and ask questions, and I felt her genuine compassion, I felt a moment of belonging.
Belonging to me has always meant "being like". I have always thought I could be liked if I was alike. Yes, alike. I had to be alike in order to be liked. Imagine, being in my 30s and 40s and thinking that way. I know where so much of that comes from, but that is another blog post. Or, it may actually be an entirely different blog altogether. So Kelly's questions and interest and the ease and comfort I showed of hearing and answering the questions, brought another mom into the conversation too. Another mom who I see all the time who hasn't ever spoken a (divorce) word to me. She too was so supportive and kind. There were a few of the dreaded coined phrases "you did what was best for your family" and " you had to do what you had to do for your kids" that were popped up like red flags for when the conversation or information must have been too much for them. like crying "uncle" for a minute. As in, I am so uncomfortable right now, I am not sure what else to say. I get it. It makes sense. I learned a little about the other side of the conversation today. A little about how their silence may not be that they don't accept me but that they just don't know what to say.
If they only knew how much their conversation means to me and how isolating it can be to be newly divorced and in a really small town that evidently is profoundly divergent from the 50%-of-all-couples-divorce standards that are claimed to exist outside of our bubble here. I feel like one of very few. On that note and in a parting word,..I took Astyn out for pizza tonight one-on-one while his two older siblings Madelyn and Tristyn were off doing something else for a while. While sitting across the table just having finished a game of straw-paper-wadded-up-to-be-a-hockey-puck table hockey, I asked him how the weekly gathering at school was going on Fridays - a gathering he astutely named "Divorce Class" eventhough it goes by the name of "Banana Splitz" for children of divorce in the elementary school. They get together once a week for 45 minutes and do games and activities with the school psychologist. Astyn told me about an activity they did this week where they had to color a page of paper and that they had a chart for what feeling each color stood for. He explained to me that red was angry and that using lots of red meant you were very angry. I said "oh yes, red, does seem like a hot color and that hot and burning does seem like it could be like angry" and asked him if he used red in his drawing. He said "no". He said "I used blue". I said "what does blue mean? Is blue good?" and he said "yes blue is good". And I said "what color did you use the most in your picture?" and he said "Hope". I said "Hope? Hope is not a color?" and he said "yes it is, orange was the color of hope and I colored almost my whole paper orange because I hope that daddy can live with us again". And that,...is another blog post.
Peace for Here and Now,
Ella Reese
May I
Under the sound of my voice, behind the blue of my eyes, behind the blush of my cheeks, behind the sturdy of my frame....is the vulnerable voice within that you can not hear and do not know. You do not know me. No one really does.
There is storm and there is sunshine. There is gray and there are vibrant hues. There are drones and there is laughter. Under the sound of my voice and deep within there is a hollow where I swim and try to find out who I am...journey with me as I share the chatter in my mind. Half way through life.. as some would find the number to mean,...but sometimes in the stormy gray drones, the math adds up differently to me.
Have to run to a rainy baseball game with my son Astyn right now, but will bring my mind chatter back later. Right now, I have to put a smile on, while inside I utterly dread that the warmer weather is here and feel ashamed of my 25 extra pounds and miss my winter layers that helped me hide. Astyn doesn't know what is under the sound of my voice. He is thrilled to have his single mom at his baseball game. He thinks I am beautiful and amazing. He and I, we know two different people.
For here and now,
Ella Reese
There is storm and there is sunshine. There is gray and there are vibrant hues. There are drones and there is laughter. Under the sound of my voice and deep within there is a hollow where I swim and try to find out who I am...journey with me as I share the chatter in my mind. Half way through life.. as some would find the number to mean,...but sometimes in the stormy gray drones, the math adds up differently to me.
Have to run to a rainy baseball game with my son Astyn right now, but will bring my mind chatter back later. Right now, I have to put a smile on, while inside I utterly dread that the warmer weather is here and feel ashamed of my 25 extra pounds and miss my winter layers that helped me hide. Astyn doesn't know what is under the sound of my voice. He is thrilled to have his single mom at his baseball game. He thinks I am beautiful and amazing. He and I, we know two different people.
For here and now,
Ella Reese
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