The Dreaded "C" Word.... Free Dating, Singles and Personals

The Dreaded "C" Word.... Posted: 7/27/2009 2:58:32 AM
And nope, I'm not talking about 'commitment'.... It's "Change" "arghhhhh! No! not 'change'! Waughhhhhhhhhhhhh! Not again!" Yep, again. Change has been on my mind pretty much hourly for the past eight months or so - I've gone through some pretty rough ones, not the least of which was my mother's suicide at the age if eighty five, in a nursing home a thousand miles away. Then came more changes - going through and selling her beloved home (which she sometimes believed she might return to) - letting go of many, many memories and mementoes. My siblings and I sorted, packed and shipped what we could to our respective residences, clinging to each other just a wee bit more tightly - in the knowlege our small circle had become yet smaller. My fiance' of two years accompanied me on that mind/heart/soul-numbing journey; in fact, he'd been the one to break the news to me after the police had come to our apartment to make notification. He was the one whose shoulders I leant on, hankie I cried into and his unending concern, care and cheerfulness held us together in heartbreak, and gave us the strength to keep sorting, packing and dealing with our sorrow. At that time, I had no clue that Mom's death was only the beginning of what was to be a tidal wave of change - more like a train wreck - of change - barrelling straight down the pike. Karl and I had been living in a tiny, cramped apartment. I worked full time to support us, while he contributed to the household from a small 'pre-pension' disability check he received every month. We had looked forward to the day when we could actually buy a home, his full pension would kick in and he could afford to go back to school full time to study his real passion - the culinary arts. Six months passed. We'd found a lovely but smallish, old and slightly creaky home that - with the bulk of what my mother had left me, we could afford to purchase and put 1/3 down. Karl was handy with power tools, painters, lawn mowers and such, so we spent the rest of what was left, supplying him with anything/everything he said we 'needed' to do the house right. Although by no means spry, Karl could still paint, caulk and handle plumbing repairs, and so our lives began a new chapter and I breathed easy for the first time in my life, convinced that finally, after one disastrous ten-year marriage and another, worse eighteen-year relationship, that finally, I'd found 'the' fella and we'd ride off into the Western Sunset, albeit with paint in our hair and blisters on our thumbs. But ah..."Change" - comin' round' the bend.... I won't draw it out - this isn't about me bashing the ex - it's about 'change'. He'd been separated/estranged from his wife for over 5 years - she lived out of state - he no longer had so much as a phone number for her or his adult daughter with her and a stepdaughter. Family/friends had finally persuaded him to leave after 28 years of non-stop abuse, during which she'd stabbed him, hit him over the head with chairs, split his head open...you get the picture. Adding insult to injury, once he was settled with family in another, far away state, he learned she'd forged his name on bank documents and cleaned out his life's savings - and the remainder of a disability settlement. In five years, there'd been no communication - until - he applied for his divorce. We moved into our home in April - by June, his daughter/step-daughter made a 'magical' appearance at our front door - sobbing and tearful, they regaled their 'long lost' daddy with stories of how their 'evil' mother had forbade them to call or write to him. When she had received notification of the 'divorce' she had them scout all over to try to find someone who could reach Karl or to find out where he was and ...voom...like magic. The 'girls' stayed for a week, boo-hooing and weeping as they left their Daddy with me, but oozing affection for me, the new "Step-mamma". He wiped his tears away, went back into the house with me, but he might as well have climbed into that car with them. Three weeks later a letter arrived for him from his estranged wife. It was thick. It was perfumed. ...Do ya'll hear the train getting closer now? "Why?" You all might ask...why after all this time? Well, my dears, it's called a "Pension" to be more precise, a "Full Pension" which was due to come in early in 2008. A pension I knew nothing about until Karl and I were nearly seven months into our relationship. The pension he promised to use to pay me back the roughly $18,000 he borrowed from me while we were together, as I supported us, got him a car and started him back to classes. A pension the ex-wife and daughters would only have seen a fraction of. On December 1st, I put Karl on a plane for Georgia - he was heading down to his sister's home and I was to follow two weeks later. He enjoyed spending time with his nephews and brother -in-law, and 'sis' wanted his help in getting the home ready for the holidays. I loved his extended family and we'd visited back and forth quite a bit - they were horrified when they learned that the ex-wife and daughters had surfaced again. On December 14th, Karl got a phone call from one of the daughters - it seemed that their 'evil' mother had had a complete 'breakdown' and was threatening to kill herself. Of course, in doing the "right" thing - and despite his entire family's pleas - he called her. On the 15th he boarded a plane for Rhode Island and I never saw him again. I celebrated our 'first' Christmas, in our "first" home alone - as well as the anniversary of my mother's death - sat on the floor in front of the non-working fireplace, packed up the presents (I never opened any of mine - put them in a box and dumped them off at Goodwill) and didn't have the strength or fortitude to tell anyone what had happened until the first week of January. Of course, Karl's family knew and they called repeatedly and begged me to come down there but I turned off the phone and sat in the dark and thought about change, and life, and pain and grief and all the 'big things' we're all confronted with and stupefied by. I don't know how I made it to February without blowing my brains out - but I did it. And now we get to the heart of the matter - again, which is "Change". Why am I posting this here, at POF? For the first time, I have joined in internet 'dating site' and I have no intention of letting my past 'haunt' me here. By that, I mean my 'former' ways of making decisions, of making choices in prospective dates - has had to change entirely - as has my outlook on life. It seems as though the first thirty years of my life went by in a flash - three relationships; each one entered into almost desperately, as though each were some sort of 'last chance' and I latched onto each like a barnacle on the Queen Mary before I'd even stopped to take a look at how seaworthy she was. Fear of change, fear of letting go, fear of taking my time - made me make less than sensible choices in life partners and I spent three decades neck deep in regret, blame, shame and remorse. By the time I met Karl, I'd realized deep down that there was, fundamentally, something wrong with the way I viewed my need for a man in my life, the kinds of men I was drawn to and even my reasons for feeling I needed a man - but it took Karl, the loss of tens of thousands of dollars and three years of my life, to make me hit rock bottom and my ass HARD. I can learn Or I can lather, rinse and repeat this same sucking scenario until I'm six feet under. I really don't fault Karl - although for a very, very long time I wanted to simultaneously crawl into his lap and sob my heart out, while bashing his brains out with a tire iron. He's sick. He's a product of his environment and in the end, found it more 'comfortable' to go back to being used and abused instead of taking a deep breath and embracing the changes he'd have to go through in order to forge a new life with me. I also am not as angry as perhaps I could be because we all - his blood-kin - pretty much believe he will come to a sad and very tragic end - over his pension. I'm writing this only in the hope that someone out there - who is afraid of change and perhaps clinging desperately to an old relationship, a new relationship that's already become destructive or hanging on to old views about relationships, will take a deep breath, look themselves straight in the psyche and say, "It's time for ME to change - not him/not her/not the world but ME" One of my siblings is a counselor and therapist for the U.S. Military - having been in for nearly thirty years - and they write a regular column. We spoke at length last week and the seeds of that talk led to the July column... "Embracing Only to Let Go" By.. From the time I was born until they passed away, my grandparent's home never changed. It was one thing in life you could count on. There was a candy dish on a table in their living room. Made of cut glass, it held peppermint and butterscotch candies; the same pieces of peppermint and butterscotch candies - year after year. Even if you'd wanted to eat one the, whole mess was cemented together with sugary goo that most likely had become toxic. But there was an odd comfort in that. No matter what was going on in my life, from the moment I walked through that front door and smelled the cigar burning next my grandfather's recliner or the aroma of freshly- caught brim or trout, frying on the kitchen stove attended to by my grandmother, all the cares of the world went away. Sanctuary. Sanctuary is a good thing. We all need to be grounded and to regroup. The problem arises when sanctuary becomes a place to avoid the inevitable changes of life. Military and Department of Defense folks know change all too well. The ship's schedule changes like the weather on a summer day, here in Guam. Duty stations change, schools change, jobs change, friends change and the people attending worship services change and priest personnel and chaplains change and ... and .... and. As much as I may try or deny it, change is constant. It is a daily conversion. The Hebrew words for change are "ìShubî" meaning to "turn away from" and "ìEpistropheî" meaning to "turn toward". Whether it's slow daily change, or larger changes that come with life situations, we are always simultaneously turning away from and toward something. To embrace this; to embrace change is to embrace life. I may not like it or agree with it but it is going to happen no matter what I want. There is a peace that comes with the surrender to change/conversion. As much as we all need a place of sanctuary where we can retreat, rest, renew and regroup, I hope and pray that my heart and mind never grow stagnant, because I refused to embrace change because in the end, a false sanctuary can soon become nothing but a haven for stale cigar smoke and sweets that have long lost their taste. ------- So, there you have it. I still loathe change and sometimes feel a twinge of despair when I see it creeping up and round' the bend but I know that to try to run, to cling or to deny it will mean the death of me or a portion of that which is intrinsically me. As I've learned to accept change with open eyes and arms, more positives have come into my life than negatives - If my eyes and heart are closed, how can I see to navigate my down down the paths change has and will take me in future? I can no longer be anything less than mindful in my decisions/choices - I owe it to myself and to the person who is taking an equal chance on me... So, I take a deep breath, put a smile on my face, open my heart and arms wide in embrace and welcome - And hold out the candy dish Yes - I've changed names/dates/places to protect the innocent and dumb-assed. I'm also NOT Looking for advice - I put this out there, hoping it will help someone else. I won't answer questions as to "Why didn't he....?" "Why didn't you...?" Those questions and the umpty-dozen off shoots they'd sprout would take more years than I have left to answer. You got the 'condensed' version - believe me. In the end, it was all about biting the bullet and saying, "Yep this critter's dead" - embracing the change and moving on/forward. Two books I WILL recommend - "The Road Less Travelled" Scott Peck "The Grief Recovery Handbook" John James/Russell Friedman