theunbowedwoman

[theunbowedwoman]

Being Friends with the Ex

Wow, it’s been almost a year since I last touched base, and what a f****** year 2017 has been. Let’s not even start with politics and world events, because if you haven’t already noticed, I’m not exactly blogging about those things.

2017 was the year my boyfriend unexpectedly broke up with me and broke my heart. To know me is to know that I’m not one for sugarcoating things. There were no “long discussions” about this and it was definitely not a “mutual agreement.” Nope, he just found himself in a crisis of sort that he’s still trying to work through, and our relationship was a casualty. 

I’ve never been friends with an ex and find the thought as appealing as smelling your fellow commuters’ armpits in the subways during the hot, humid days of summer. But I was inspired by a friend who had also recently broken up with her partner and kept in touch with him, going out for dinners, etc. I was intrigued too. 

Also, it made sense. For nearly three years, R was one of the most important people in my life. We had deep, intimate conversations deep into the night and he was also a friend, not just a romantic partner. How do you just turn around and forget about all that? Our breakup was not dramatic in any way. There were no screamings, no hailing of words that we would come to regret later. Our breakup was marked by several painful, somewhat scarring conversations in which copious amount of tears were shed on both sides.

So we’ve kept in touch regularly and hang out with each other frequently. And let me tell you, this shit is hard. Sometimes, I’m not even sure why I’m doing this—is it to proof that I can actually be friends with an ex, or am I secretly hankering to reconcile? Does it prevent me from moving on, if R is still in my life? Do I even want to be with him again, if that opportunity presents itself? 

Recently, R came over for dinner—the first time he stepped foot in my apartment since we broke up. I’ve already been over his, and it wasn’t easy. In some ways, I think every breakup and attempts to be friends have certain milestones, and the first time an ex is back in your apartment after breaking your heart is definitely one of them. 

It was odd. It was disconcerting. It hurt. I felt like we were playing make-believe. It didn’t help that it took him nearly 2.5 hours to get here—thanks, MTA!—so he was a bit stressed out when he arrived, and of course, that was less time for us. Because the new reality is that now, he returns to his own place after dinner and watching TV, instead of staying over and sleeping together. 

I think doing things like this break your heart evermore, but it’s also important because, in an odd way, it also makes your heart stronger evermore. Does this make sense? Do you know what I mean? It’s as if you passed some unspoken test that every person has to go through when she/he chooses to be friends with an ex. 

Later, when he called me that he was home, he admitted that the whole thing was odd to him as well. I don’t think it’s something either of us is prepared to repeat again anytime soon. The wounds are still raw, though there are days when I feel like new skin is starting to grow over mine. 

I don’t know what the future will hold. Once upon a time, when I was younger, I actually thought I could control my future, my life. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH. Now, I’m lucky if I’ll be able to control my bowel movements when I get to be of a certain age. But this experiment of being friends with my ex continues. 

I’ve also been thinking a lot about something I read recently. Unable to move on from a breakup, this woman asked her therapist: “What more can I do to let go?” The therapist replied: “You’re asking the wrong question. It’s not about letting go. The work is to be grateful. Grateful every day that someone crossed your path and left a mark on you.”

Well, in spite of all the hurt and pain, I am definitely grateful that R and I crossed paths, and we left our marks on each other. And maybe through this, I can also slowly, but surely, let go of what we once had and build a wonderful friendship instead. 

Or not. Maybe we’ll start doing a slow but inevitable fade from each other’s life. Because, after all, this is life.

#relationships #love #life #mylife #broken heart #life is strange #mystery

[theunbowedwoman]

Love is love is love is love is...

Dear Mom,

Several year ago, I went to see a therapist to cope with the aftermath of your and Peter’s passing. One of the things she suggested was for me to write letters to you, dad, and Peter about anything I wanted. I really liked that idea and writing those letters proved to be a great catharsis. I still have those letters and read them once in a blue moon to remind me of where I was and how far I’ve come.

It occurred to me that doing such an exercise shouldn’t be limited to any specific period in one’s life, and in an odd way, it also reminded me a lot of when I was younger and had a pen pal (yes, remember those--we actually put pen on paper, stuffed the letter in an envelope, put a stamp on it, and mailed the letter!). It’s been nearly a decade since I wrote my letter to you, and I think we’re long overdue for another.

Mom, I’m careening toward 50, and with any luck and Buddha’s will, I will live to see that age. I’m not being morose but realistic. Believe me, I know all too well the pitfall of assuming something will happen and the heartbreak when it doesn’t. As I hopefully approach that milestone, mom, I still can’t believe you won’t be here to experience it with me.

In losing you, mom, I lost such a big part of myself that I will never gain back. It’s ok--I long ago accepted that, and also that sadness will always occupy a fraction of my life. And oddly enough, it’s made me realize and cherish all the sweet moments I’ve had after you left--and there have been some!--that much more sweeter and memorable. It’s hard to describe, but since losing you and Peter, I feel things so much more intensely. And me being me--generally optimistic and hopeful--I’ve chosen to feel the good things in life more intensely than the bad.

Mom, when I think back, I realized that you were not perfect. But was I the perfect daughter? Far from it. I think one of the saddest things in American society now is that children expect their parents to be perfect, parents want to be everything for their children, and people expect their partners to fulfill everything in them. It’s no wonder that so many of us are breaking under this unfair pressure, and the winners are...psychiatrists and psychologists and pharmarectucal companies.

No, mom, you dared to be imperfect and to have a mind of your own, and in so doing, you showed me the importance of being oneself and not just doing or saying the politically correct thing and following the crowd. The most important thing you imparted in me--and the thing that probably gave me the confidence I have today--is that I knew your love for me was unlimited and span the passage of time. I always knew that if I fell, you would be there to pick me up, to hold me, to shelter me. You saw the imperfections in me--in all of your children (does anyone know more about her children’s faults than a mother?)--and you loved me nonetheless. You accepted me, warts and all, yet you also let me know the things I needed to improve, if I were to have successful relationships in life.  And I listened to you and absorbed what you said, because I knew you had my best interests at heart, like no other. 

Mom, you were--and will continue to be--the love of my life. I’ve been extremely fortunate to have had a few earth-shattering, groundbreaking, heart-pounding loves since you, but even in the throes of those experiences, I’ve always known that none of them compares to my love for you, and vice versa. How incredibly lucky am I, to never have to search for the love of my life, but to have immediately found it, upon birth! Life gives many an unfair start, and in this, the god of benevolence definitely shone on me.

Mom, so much has happened since you’ve gone, and I frequently wonder what you would have made of it all. My life did not turn out the way I expected--FAR from it, my god. You know I was not the kind of person to run to you with my problems, but how comforting it was to simply know you were there. I think of all the things I miss about having you here, and knowing that I’ll never have someone rooting for me as hard as you did, mom, is one of the toughest things I have to bear. 

But you know me, mom--I’m not a whiner. Plus, in terms of family, I definitely came out on the winning side. 

When I think about us, I think about a love story that withstand the passage of time. I think about how I came into this world, in a rivulet of fluid and liquid--and love. I tumbled out of you, mom, confused, yelling, crying. And in that moment and all the moments since then, you set me right. You watched me fall numerous times and didn’t offer to pick me up, because we both knew you didn’t have to. It was left unspoken that you would be there for me, should I seek you succor, and that was enough. Our was an unconventionally tender relationship, and it felt like we were telepathically connected to one another. I think it was the unseen umbilical cord that is never truly cut between a mom and her child.

Lest you think that this is a story only about sunshine and unicorns, I want you to know, mom, that many days it’s been a struggle. The downside of having found the love of one’s life so early is losing it so early. After all, where do I go from here? When I know that I’ve had the ultimate love and no other will compare? Sometimes, if I really allow myself to, I would start thinking that I’m just passing time in this realm, until I leave it and see you again, mom. 

But then I think, how dreadful. What a horrible way to live and to think. And also--you raised me to be more than this, mom. You raised me to be self-sufficient, confident--definitely not someone who’s just living to live but living to love, to experience, to question, to doubt, to accept. 

Mom, you inculcated in me an indomitable spirit, because you were one yourself. 

I recall asking dad shortly after you passed, “did mom know I love her?,” to which dad replied immediately, “of course she did.” But mom, I so wish I had said those three wondrous words to you more often while you were here. Because truly you know by now. My god, it overwhelms even me sometimes how much I love you. I will never know what it’s like to love my own child, but in an odd way, I do know, because I’ve experienced your love for me. And certainly, from where I stand, it’s been a privilege to be your daughter and to love you.

As Lin-Manuel Miranda said, “Love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love, cannot be killed or swept aside.” 

Mom, I love you to the end of time and beyond. Till we meet again, mom.

Till we meet again.

#mom #love #i love you #family #relationship #mother #lin manuel miranda

[theunbowedwoman]

Love, Then and Now

I have had the extreme good fortune of falling in love with two men at different stages of my life. The first was P, in many ways my first love, unless you count some silly adolescent crush that at the time felt like my heart was gonna burst but maybe it was just indigestion. The second is my current boyfriend, R. 

P and I were together for nearly 20 years, so I was at least 20 years older when I met R. Wow, what a difference a couple of decades make, ha ha. With P, love had a purpose: namely, to get married and have children. Love was mission driven. I was so much more immature then, and that reflected in my relationship with P. 

Love with R, however, is just for the sake of love. The having-children boat has come and gone. Having been married once, I don’t need to experience it again--though I’m still open to it. There is no urgency this time, no “deadlines” to meet. There is love just for the sake of love, and I savor it so much. It’s like taking time out to smell the roses--now I’m taking time out just to revel in this remarkable opportunity I have to once again love. 

Loving both P and R, however, is similar in many ways. First of all, it’s really scary but wondrous to let yourself be totally vulnerable and give yourself to someone, knowing that person can shatter your heart into a million pieces (as it happened to me). But the payoff is like nothing in the world. It’s that feeling you get that you can’t quite describe, but your heart is pounding so gently and sweetly and you ache just thinking that you might lose this person. It’s staring into the face of your partner at night as you lie next to each other in bed and tracing the contours of his face, lips, nose, eyes, etc., and thinking, wow, be still my beating heart, but is this man really mine? And can I love him more than I do at this moment?

The person I was 20 years ago is vastly different from the person I am now, so it makes sense that I would experience love differently now vs. then. But this I know to be true: to love is to give, to be vulnerable, to live life without filters, to say to your partner, here I am, in all my glory, faults, and all. And if, like me, you’re lucky to have had two remarkable loves in your life, then you can die happy. 

#love #relationship #heart #heartbreak #wondrous

[theunbowedwoman]

A space of one’s own

So my kitchen renovation has begun, and my word. I left one day, with my apartment exactly the way it’s always been and came home that night with my apartment turned topsy-turvy. Between the contractors’ tools and supplies, and room needed to assemble cabinets, and furniture rearranged every which way, there is barely any room for me. 

And yet, whether or not my contractors planned it this way or just by sheer luck,  I have managed to carve out a very small space in the living room area where there’s a table just large enough for me to eat my meals off of and use my laptop to browse and do other things, like typing this post. And I’m so happy just to have this little, tiny corner where a semblance of normalcy reigns. I can even watch TV from here. (Yes, I watch TV. Yes, I enjoy it. Deal.)

All this got me thinking, how much room, how much space, do we really need to be happy or content? In this country, bigger always seems to be better--paychecks, smartphone screens, TV monitors, boobs--you get the picture. But how do you explain the popularity of shows like “Tiny House Nation,” which I happen to enjoy and even endeavor to live in one, in the future? Why is it that I’m perfectly satisfied by the portion size of airplane food, yet once I disembark, I’m back to eating meals served on plates the size of Wisconsin? Why are we always striving for bigger and more, when smaller and less can lead to just as much--perhaps even more--contentment?

What does one really need? Food, shelter and, I argue, love. Whether it’s love from a partner, a family member, a friend, a pet, love in all its guises and forms. And a space of one’s own. Just enough for us to retreat to and relax in, but not so overwhelming that we feel isolated from others, from life itself.

Here in my own little corner, in my suddenly shrunken apartment, I have found this space. There is chaos everywhere around me, but in the eye of the hurricane, I have found a space of my own. And I am more content than I thought possible.

#kitchen #kitchen renovation #kitchen remodeling #kitchen redesigning #calm #personal space

[theunbowedwoman]

“Do you consider yourself a widow or divorced?”

A friend asked this question after reading my previous post. To her, there was a big discrepancy in how I present my relationship with my ex-husband in person vs. how I describe it in my blog. It’s a great question.

My immediate thought after she asked was “a widow.” We were divorced for a mere six months when I found out that P passed away. I was still coming to grips with the fact that my marriage was over and then, this. It wasn’t as if I stopped loving him--if only things were that simple. 

I took away so many valuable lessons from this relationship, and one of them is that love is not enough to save someone you love or to save your relationship. Love, however, will go a long way toward making you stay in a relationship and being hopeful that things will change for the better. But I’m too old for fairy tales, and the fact of the matter is that love, no matter how strong, can only do so much. Love can do A LOT, but even it has its limits.

In an odd way, I felt abandoned even though I was the one who initiated the divorce. I think it was because in the last year or so, P became someone I didn’t recognize at all. He wasn’t the person I fell in love with. His disease robbed the man I love and replaced him with a total stranger. It was frightening, bizarre, and heartbreaking. So, yes, in a way, I was abandoned. The man my husband was, was no longer.

My friend thought I came across very clinical in my post, referring to my husband as my “ex,” when in person I talk about him much more poignantly. It’s interesting, because legally of course I am divorced and you refer to someone you’re no longer with as your “ex” or “former” spouse or partner. Also, I’m in another relationship now, so it sounds odd to refer to my ex as my “husband.”

Deep inside though, I think it is somewhat demeaning to call P my “ex.” He was so much more than that. I was with him practically my entire adult life. He was my love. No one encouraged me to try things more than he did. Whenever I had doubts, he would push me. And more often than not, he was right--I COULD do what I was afraid to, and do it damn well, thank you very much.

He was generous to a fault and tried so hard to battle the demons in him and make our relationship work. We were both caught in such a vicious cycle that it boggles my mind to think about all this now. My husband’s disease robbed the man I fell in love with, but I’m also no longer the same person I was decades earlier. What “robbed” the person I was? Age. Experience. Life itself.

So now, I’m not sure how to refer to P anymore. Within our circle of friends, I could of course refer to him by his name and everyone will know who I’m referring to. But with total strangers when this subject comes up, how do I honor this man who will always occupy a place in my heart? All of the sudden, “ex” sounds very inadequate.

Can you be divorced and yet still involved with the same person? Is divorce just a legal term or status? You may no longer be together and yet deep inside, you’ll never be apart. What do you call that?

#relationship #love #affairs of the heart #matters of the heart #marriage #divorce #heart #heartbreak #eternal relationship

[theunbowedwoman]

A renovation of the heart

Often in life, you have no idea how one seemingly innocuous, unrelated set of action could set off a chain reaction. Such as it is with my kitchen renovation, which I just started (yes, pray for me).

I’ve had the same kitchen for nearly 15 years, and it has served me grandly. In this kitchen, I’ve prepared countless meals for friends and love ones. In this kitchen, my ex-husband and I cooked, cleaned, drank, entertained, laughed, loved, fought, and lived for half of our nearly 20 years together. If I close my eyes, I can still see him gulping down a glass of milk, looking into the fridge in search of snacks.

It was in this kitchen that I cooked for my family, including my mother, who remains to this day my heart. I didn’t cook for her as much as I wanted to, which makes the meals I did prepare for her that much more precious.

As I get ready for my kitchen renovation, I am thoroughly taken aback by how emotional the process is. Memories of years gone by come roaring back and all of the sudden, I’m taken back to a younger me, a different me. Even though some part of this is painful, it’s mostly a joy, a celebration, a remembrance of the life I’ve had and the amazing, wonderful people I’ve shared it with, including those who are no longer here. “The past is never dead,” William Faulkner wrote. “It’s not even past.” In my kitchen, the past and the present all mingle to shape my future.

Many of you have heard of Marie Kondo, the guru of organizing who believes in giving thanks when you bid farewell to the items you no longer need. Last night I said to my stove, thank you, stove, for your years of faithful service, for the uncountable number of meals you’ve helped me to prepare, whether they were to nourish and sustain my family, friends, or me. I’ve had some remarkable successes with you and some really laughable failures (egg drop soup, I’m looking at you!), but I knew that I could always turn to you. And even in those days, weeks, and months when sorrow overwhelmed me and I couldn't bring myself to eat, let alone cook, I always knew I was back on track when I was cooking again on you, my stove. Through you, I found my way back. Through you and through the meals I prepared on you, I found my succor.

#kitchen #renovation #kitchen renovation #memories #cooking #life #my life #marie kondo #saying goodbye #william faulkner #the past #the future #the now

[theunbowedwoman]

Online dating doesn’t have to suck

About two years ago, I ventured into the world of online dating. After being with one man for nearly 20 years, I felt like Alice in Wonderland. “How do you date now?” I asked friends. “The last time I dated, Nirvana was on top of the charts.”

Being the overachiever that I am, I signed up with three dating sites. The first was a complete disappointment. It kept matching me up with older men who lived out of state, two factors that didn’t appeal to me. On the second dating site, you have to come up with things to do. It felt like people were just trying to outdo each other--”let’s go hike a mountain” (on the first date?!”); “let’s go play Ping-Pong and catch some drinks after”; “let’s bike from one end of Manhattan to another.” Simply reading some of these proposals exhausted me. My “let’s meet at a coffee shop and chat” seemed positively anachronistic.

I had much better luck on the third site, which resulted in my actually meeting several men in person (some people, I learned, were more interested in being online pen pals). And you know what I learned? That there are a lot of nice blokes out there and we’re all in this together. In spite of all the disappointing dates and relationships we’ve had, somehow we remain unwavered in our belief that The One is out there. And so we put on our best face and force ourselves to go on one more date, because the next one might be it. We repeat the same conversations, the same small talks, the same jokes, in the hopes that this time, a spark might ignite. We do this because we believe that life is infinitely sweeter when you can share all its ups and downs with someone you love, who you call your mate.

After several dates, I met the man I’m dating today, and I am very happy. Just writing that line put a smile on my face. I look back on my online dating experience with fondness and pleasure. It got me to where I am today, and it reaffirmed my faith in people. Yes, there are many sick, twisted, and depraved people online, but I did not encounter any of them. The men I meet were nice, and under different circumstances, I probably would have hooked up with someone else. But fate is what fate is, and I am where I am today. 

To my online dating breathen, I salute you and I hope you find whatever it is you you are looking for. Take a deep breath, exhale, and may your search lead you to a happy place.

#online dating #dating #date #dating in nyc #relationship #believe #persevere #men

[theunbowedwoman]

A setback is a setup for a comeback.

Willey Jolley

WORD

#quote #quotation #quoteoftheday #believe #determination #perserverance #persist #firm

[theunbowedwoman]

Will I ever know what I am born to do? Will any of us?

Is that what life’s journey is supposed to be all about--to find our purpose in life? When we do, what happens next? If we know, does life stop? Do we cease learning and self-discovering? Is it better then, to not know our purpose in life but to constantly strive to find out, and perhaps in so doing, we’ll make mistakes, get knocked out, get up, meet wonderful people, hurt people, love people, laugh our heads off, have a blast, and do it all over again?

Perhaps the purpose of our life is just...to live? 

#life #question #philosophy #big questions #who knows #trying to figure it out

[theunbowedwoman]

My boyfriend is total eye candy and I love it

So at the ripe old age of, ahem, I find myself with a wonderful, younger boyfriend who is really easy on the eye. And I’m surprised by how much pleasure just looking at him gives me. Surprise, because it’s so superficial and I thought I was above that. And you know, don’t judge a book by its cover, blah, blah, blah.

But now, for the first time, I understand why older men go for younger women. Having been with men around my age group all my life, I’m learning that there is something really luscious and irrestible about youth. The dad bod is nonexistent, the stomach has yet to start expanding, and the muscles are still well defined. PURRRR. 

As Yoda might say, judge not no more, little one.

Of course, it helps enormously that my man is also sweet, intelligent, and supportive of me, because we wouldn’t have lasted as long as we have if he didn’t possess all these other attributes. But dang, sometimes I. Just. Like. Looking. At. Him. 

There are times when he would be talking and he’ll catch me staring at him, and he’ll ask if I heard a word he said. BUSTED. But then he would see the expression on my face, start laughing, and soon I would join him in the merriment as well. And as we both laugh and laugh, I realize deep in my heart why I love him as much as I do, and what stays with me is not his looks but him, in all his entirety.

#boyfriend #relationships #eyecandy #hot #gorgeous #dating #modernromance #romance #love #datingandthecity #hottie #hot #attractive