Tomorrow

You may want to read my post Tonight, from last March before reading this post. It's sort of a continuation.

You want love? We'll make it/ Swim in a deep sea of blankets...
She awoke with a pleasing smile to the sound of John Mayer on the alarm clock. Her eyes opened to the reality of a night she couldn't forget. She looked around the room seeking affirmation that it was all a dream. The wine, the jazz, the vodka. The guy. She surveyed the room for evidence. It was all there; her black silk dress dripping over the chair in the corner, and her sling backs on the floor by the closet door. And of course the mirror. Another fight, another cracked mirror. Though she wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved, she knew it wasn't a dream. Really, there was never any doubt. What now?, she said aloud with her forehead in her hand. 

She could see that Mark had slept home but she didn't remember him coming in, which could only mean she made it home and passed out before he even arrived. He probably didn't even notice the dress and the shoes. Probably wouldn't have given it any thought if he had. Pompous bastard would think she was dressed for him. She could hear the shower and smell his body wash. Saturday. That meant golf. A half hour of small talk and a cup of coffee is all she had to withstand. Then he'd be gone for the day and she could try to remember how her night ended, and how she got home. She was so preoccupied she didn't even care to discuss what time Mark got home or how his "case" was going.

In the shower, Mark was preparing his opening argument for this morning's charges. As cheaters do, he was going over his story, practicing what he'd say and predicting what she'd say in response. When he was satisfied that he had his facts straight, he rinsed the last of the lather, turned off the water, and dried off. Carefully wrapping himself in the plush towel, he made sure to tuck it in just low enough that his hips barely held it on. Exposure of his washboard abs and a hint of his tan line would at least suggest he was interested in make-up sex. It was a game they played. He knew she'd shut him out and he was grateful because the only thing on his mind this morning was getting out of the house and over to the the golf course with his buddies.

A bit glazed over and lost in her thoughts, she put on her robe and tied her hair up in a knot. "I'll go put on some coffee," she said and quickly walked downstairs, after checking on the kids who were still sleeping. Surprised he got off that easy, but unwilling to find out why, he let her go, telling her he'd be down in a minute.

Downstairs they barely said a word to one another, just took their vitamins and drank their coffee. "There's fresh granola from the bakery if you're hungry," she offered knowing he would decline.

"You okay?" he asked her reluctantly with fear he might actually have to hear why she wasn't.

"Fine," she answered genuinely as she recalled a moment from the jazz club when the bartender called her a knock out. She was thinking about the man she met last night.

"Good. See you tonight." He kissed her on her cheek, grabbed a bottle of water, and he was gone. At just about the same moment she was giving thought to it herself, he came back in and asked why she left her car in the driveway. "You know how it pisses me off when I have to move your car to get mine out of the garage!"

"Um," she was searching for the honest answer. All she could retort was, "I went out for a drink with the girls and I didn't want the garage door to wake the kids when I got home." She suddenly recalled that the bartender drove her home. He was the one who left her car in the driveway. It really didn't matter though because Mark would interpret it as a deliberate move to get back at him for not coming home for their date night last night. She didn't care what he thought, and besides, she did go out for a drink. So what if her friends weren't with her. He slammed the door behind him and she declared in a loud whisper, "Asshole."

She was happy to have some time to herself to review the events of her evening out. She was grateful not to be hungover, and decided to take her coffee upstairs and run a hot shower. Maybe the steam would help her defog. She walked by the broken mirror and made a mental note to call the company who replaced the last one she broke. Then she smiled as she picked up her silk and put it in the dry cleaning basket. It was all starting to come back to her. She left her mug on the counter and stepped into the shower. She sighed in relief as she assured herself the bartender drove her home, let her in the house and called for a cab. Nothing happened. Well actually, that depends on how you define nothing. She hadn't been unfaithful. She didn't sleep with him or even kiss him. But, she wanted to. She felt an intimacy with him that had long been absent from her marriage to Mark. The way he looked at her. The way he listened. The way he looked at her. She allowed herself a few more minutes to relax and daydream. Then it was on with her day. It was a nice night, but today was all about her kids. They had plans for lunch and the pool with Rachel and her kids.

***

She and Rachel had been friends for years, longer back than their memories. Their kids loved each other like cousins and were excited about their play date. "Mommy," a voice called from the back seat. "Is Aunt Rachel making a watermelon boat?" Her kids loved fresh fruit and Rachel was a regular Martha Stewart.

"I'm sure she is. She knows it's your favorite."

"What about lemonade? Is she making her own lemonade?"

"Let's see when we get there, okay? Did you remember to put an extra t-shirt in the bag?" Two gleeful voices responded in unison.

"Yes!"

Spending the day at Rachel's was great for all of them. Watching their kids grow up together always prompted warm memories and colorful childhood stories. It was a great way to keep her mind off last night. No matter how hard she tried so far it wasn't working. She wondered if she could get through the afternoon without telling her best friend, and by the time they arrived she had decided she shouldn't have to. If she couldn't tell Rachel, she couldn't tell anyone, and if she couldn't tell anyone, she thought she'd explode. "Alright, everyone out. Make sure you grab your towels and I'll get the bag. Remember, no running through the house in your wet bathing suits. When you get out of the pool, dry off!"

Rachel opened the door before they made it up the path. The kids went running and screaming and there were hugs and kisses all around. As the kids went out back, the moms sat on the patio sipping lemonade and cautiously admiring their beautiful children. "So how was the theater last night?"

"Terrific, Rachel explained. The lead was phenomenal. What a voice! How about you? Why were you so anxious to go out last night? What happened to Mark?" She asked knowing the answer. Rachel knew her like no one else did, and that included the state of her marriage. "He didn't come home? Not even for date night?" She tried to appear angry  in response to Rachel's questions, but her friend wasn't buying her act. "Weren't you pissed?"

"I was."

"But you're not now? What was his excuse?"

"Come on Rachel, does it matter what his excuse was? We both know what he was doing."

"Bastard. How long are you going to put up with his crap? I know you're worried about the kids. But I'm worried about you." She had been there through it all. Rachel was there when she and Mark met, and she was the maid of honor at her wedding. She knew her friend wasn't happy.

"I know Rachel. But..." She was trying to find the words to tell her friend about her night on the town. Just when she thought she was ready, they were distracted.

"Mooooom!" It was a call of many voices meant for both of them. Their children were lined up along the wall at the deep side of the pool. They both looked over and heard, "3-2-1- Can-non-ball!" All five children thrust themselves into the air and hit the water for a giant collective splash. The moms laughed as the water sprayed over them. They remembered doing the same thing as kids.

"Now, what were you going to say?" Rachel tried to coax her friend into sharing what was on her mind.

"I was so mad. As much as an ass as he's been, he never misses Friday date night. I shattered another mirror."

"Eeek."

"Yeah, but then I put on the dress."

Rachel gasped, "The dress?"

"Yup, and then I went to Blue Velvet." It had been years, but the two of them frequented Blue Velvet quite a bit in their single days. Before all of the ladies got married, they'd meet there for drinks several times a week. "The music was fantastic. I forgot how much we loved that place."

"Why do I get the feeling from your face that there's more to tell?" She smiled at Rachel. Nobody knows you like a friend you grew up with. It was time to spill the beans.

A Purge and a Promise

It's been a long time since I've blogged, longer than I thought. It's been almost two months. I've been caught up in the chaos of my life, feeling uninspired, unmotivated, and worse yet, guilty for feeling paralyzed by the not so catastrophic crises if my life. At a recent gathering of my writing circle, my friend Natalie reminded me of the absurdity of comparing our personal muck to one another's. To minimize or invalidate our own feelings of unhappiness by comparing them to the "worse" or seemingly more extreme circumstances of our friends and acquaintances, is to deny ourselves the right to feel what we are feeling. It denies us the right to the human experience.

Lately, I have been living my life, just going through the motions as they say, rather than living in the moments. I have not been finding, or honestly even been looking for things to celebrate, to inspire me, or to write about. It's a rather sad existence, one I am determined to make temporary as I grab ahold of myself and shake it out of me. I never wanted my blog to be a place to whine or complain. The reality is however, that I'm feeling relatively uninspired and rather than resolve not to write for another two, three, however many months, I've decided to plow through by writing what's on my mind. Quite frankly, when my friend Helen and I set out on a journey last year, to make writing a daily part of our lives by starting a writing circle and getting our blogs going, never did we say all kicks and giggles. We just said, let's write.

So first a purge, then a promise:

Purge:

I've been working too much and too hard. I took a new job that is quite challenging. I'm not sure it's exactly what I want. In some ways it's what I didn't want, the things that kept me from joining the admin pool in public school. It has it's rewards too though, and the people I work with are terrific. But when I interviewed I thought it was a new job for the new school year. I didn't realize I was going to have to leave my job of 7 years (and all the colleagues-turned-friends and smiling faces that became so routine it was like being home away from home) six weeks before school got out. I didn't realize even though I had already accepted 12 weeks of adjunct work for the late spring and summer, I was going to have a full time job on top of that. I didn't realize how much I have come to depend on downtime during the summer to treat my sleep deprivation, my vitamin D deficiency, and my writing spirit. I sure do realize now. Though I have the pleasure of double income over the summer, and an increase from my last job, money does not buy you time or relaxation when you work full time. 

Working all summer was going to suck, but it would all be ok because I expected to be in a brand new home. That's the next best thing to vacation, right? Moving into a brand new home. Our house was up on the market and within a couple of weeks of starting above mentioned job, we got a buyer! Negotiations started, a contract was drawn up, and a closing date was scheduled. We packed boxes, sold furniture, had a garage sale and donated unneeded items. We found a house in a neighborhood we loved and could afford, with the down payment made up largely from the proceeds of the sale of the home we were selling. Two days before the scheduled closing, we packed up a U-Haul, moved out, cleaned up, and went to stay with my gracious sister-in-law and brother-in-law. All was good. We were slightly inconvenienced, but it would all be worth it in a few days when we unlocked the door to our new home. So we waited patiently.

And we waited. And waited some more. The closing date was pushed a few more days and a few more days. Don't worry their realtor told us via our realtor, they're cleared to close. Just details he insisted. So our realtor helped stave off the company selling us our new home. People behind the scenes worked hard to try to keep all the pieces together for us, as the closing kept getting pushed. We had now been living with my sister-in-law for 2 weeks. My husband was a train wreck. We couldn't stand to come home at night. NOT because of his wonderful sister and her husband, but because once the day's business was over, it was another day gone by with no closing. 

We had just about thrown in the towel, given up on everything. Then over breakfast at Perkins, we decided to become a team again.  Arguing and crying all week really did a number on us and we weren't feeling like ourselves. We talked, hugged, held hands, and decided everything would be ok. It'll happen. We just had to be patient. We rented a storage unit to unload the U-Haul that we had now had for 10 days, racking up fees to the sum of near $800. Before you call us crazy, remember we were originally thinking two days at my sister-in-law's with a U-Haul was better than unloading into storage and moving again. Our closing dates were originally scheduled for two consecutive days. But now, there was no telling what would happen. So after that breakfast at Perkins, we moved into the storage and returned the U-Haul. The guy actually felt bad for us and knocked two days off the bill. Drop in the bucket, but kind of him nonetheless. The weekend wasn't so bad.

I don't remember if it was Monday or Tuesday, but it doesn't matter. My realtor, also a dear friend, called me at work and I could hear it in her voice. What happened? The buyers lost their financing and it was all over. Both deals dead. Just like that. Buyers without financing equals no sale. No sale equals no down payment money. We spent the next two days moving back into the same house, and we've been here ever since. Minimal furniture, ten percent of my kitchen, no personal photos or decor, and our house back on the market. There seems to be more to the story about the buyers, but honestly I don't give a crap anymore. Knowing what happened won't change the series of events. Most of our things are still stored in the hopes the house will sell again soon. There's no way we're unpacking to pack again.

Finally, I've developed some weird anxiety in the past month. I'm not prepared to go into detail here, because it's a very specific and irrational anxiety I seem to have developed in response to certain images to which I was exposed. I know that sounds cryptic, but the best way I can explain it is to tell you to think of a time you saw or heard something traumatic or disturbing, and you just couldn't get it out of your head. Now imagine it stuck in your head, and causing nausea, sweating, or just nerves. That's what has happened to me. I've never had any kind of clinical anxiety issues in the past, never suffered from clinical OCD or phobias. But this anxiety is a mild case of that kind of thing and it's really upsetting to me. I'm finding coping mechanisms and the longer time goes since I saw the images, the more the anxiety seems to dissipate. I'm not sure if it's the issue itself, or the fact that I'm having the issue that's bothering me more. Those who know I me, know I'm a bit of a control freak. I was talking to my husband about it, and I can't seem to separate the two. Either way, it's very real and very unsettling.

So the summer of transition, or what I hoped to be the gateway to the next exciting phase in my life- new home, new job- has become a disappointment. I try not to minimize my feelings by saying it's not a big deal, my family is healthy, my marriage is strong, blah blah. Because while all of that is true, Natalie reminded me that I'm allowed to be disappointed, saddened, deflated about my current circumstances. Yes, there are people in the world who are experiencing far more catastrophic things, but my shitty circumstances are shitty for me. And I am allowed to feel shitty about it!

And with that, I am purged of the crappiness of this summer and ready to make a promise.

Promise:

I've got to find some inspiration again. In two weeks, both of my summer obligations will be over and I'll be back to just work. I say just work, because one of the nice things about my new job is that because I am no longer a classroom teacher, I usually leave work empty handed. I think about work, and stress about things that need to be done, the way others do. But I don't have papers to grade or lesson plans. I work balls to the wall all day, and then I leave and come home. I don't have to do anything until I get back the next day. 

I promise myself, with you as my witnesses, that I will find inspiration again.

The NWP Summer Institute starts tomorrow. My friend and colleague, Stacey and I, are facilitating together. We have planned all sessions for the next two weeks, and I'm involved once again in my passion, writing. I look forward to participating with the other teachers and drawing on them for inspiration. I will be writing.

I promise myself, with you as my witnesses, that I will find inspiration again.

I have started several pieces and I have a journal page filled with ideas for new writing. I'm going to write more. I may work on a book, start a new study, or just continue with daily blogging, but I'm going to write. It feeds me, and starving myself of it does not help solve my problems or make them go away. Even if my writing is filled with sadness, I will write. I'm not going to worry about my mood or what others want to hear. When we do this, our writing can become disingenuous. Pat Schneider says all writing starts as nonfiction. If we write our stories and our feelings, and things the way we remember them, we can always alter details for the sake of story later. 

I promise myself, with you as my witnesses, that I will find inspiration again.

I look forward to the next meeting of my writing circle. These women give me the courage to write and to feel. They listen without judgment, they support without obligation, they write and they share and they write some more. I can't wait until our next meeting.

I'm going to chase my dreams and put plans in place to help make them come true. Starting now.