is a single mama in the city, super-savvy editor, writer, video host and shameless shoe whore.
Seeing things a little differently these days
Monday, January 25, 2010 A few weeks ago, in a frantic attempt to spend up my flexible spending account, I splurged on a spendy pair of glasses that I intended to wear only for the five to ten minutes I spend between taking out my contacts and slipping into bed. But when I put them on for the first time, I saw a glimpse of the studious-looking drama club and school paper geek and club grrrl who also wore red glasses. That was the late 80s and my life was different and my frames embarrassingly larger (the proof is in the equally embarrassing pic to follow).
The woman behind the new glasses takes more risks, is more thoughtful with her words and wears a body that shows the choices made over all these years. But I still see the world as a place I am always steeled to take on, I still swear too much and I still listen to all that Erasure, Depeche Mode, Crowded House and Boy Meets Girl.
I'm choosing to wear my glasses more often, to have days when I let my eyes adjust to a new way of seeing. I used to be concerned that sporting specs would make people view me differently, that they would only see that serious, geeky side of me and miss the rest. Today, I am not so concerned about that. OK, I am less concerned about that. Since the beginning of the year, though, I've been more focused on how I am looking out on things.
Of course it's a metaphor. The magic red glasses aren't giving me some radical new Deepak Chopra/Oprah-like (would that be Chopraesque?...oooh, spoooky) enlightenment. But I've certainly noticed some things in this New Year that have changed me.
I've realized that my divorce was hard on my friends. Of course, there have been people who turned and ran when I approached them after filing for divorce like it was contagious and there were friends who went with the person who got the couch and 17 mismatched Tupperware containers and lids. The friends, and in particular the women, who have heard many, many details, talked late into the night, helped me transition from married life to single life to dating life -- they've all born the burden of these few years along with me. It's been necessary growth for me to reach out and ask for help, and my best friends certainly have reached back. I get now how not easy that must have been for them. I am in a much better place now, and there's not much more to say than I am sorry and I thank you and that I feel the gravity of it all for all of us now.
I see that, already, much of my son's life is out of my hands. After a lot of tense back-and-forth with The Ex recently, it occurred to me that I released my anger at him for what he did to me a long time ago. But I am still very angry at what he did to our son. Maybe I am mad he is the father of my son.
I've said many times that I am more empowered on this side of my life than I thought I could be. For all of that, filing for divorce is the second best choice I've ever made (aside from that crazy, huggy kid all sprawled out across Star Wars sheets as I type). I have been holding anger at him for the kind of father he is and that comes from my deep fear that Lil E will one day hear the lies and name-calling and yelling, too. I hope -- ohhh, how I hope -- that will not be the case. If it is, though, I won't be able to control it. I can only make our home safe and happy and bright. I can only work on myself as a mother to this boy. I cannot control the kind of father he has and, as hard and as much of a lifelong challenge as this may be, it's time to face that.
I get that alone is good and even necessary. I spent two years filling up weekends and most of my waking (or even barely awake moments) with plans with friends and dates and (shhh) my parents. In the last month, I've not only craved time to myself without anywhere to be or much to do, I've actually followed through with evenings and occasional whole weekends to myself. Surprisingly, I haven't died of anxiety or loneliness. It's also nice to know that the constants of loud music, multiple bubble baths a day, movies from OnDemand, incessant TweetDeck refreshing, terrible and whoreishly wonderful reality television and spur-of-the-moment trips to any nearby shoe aisle are not always healing but are definitely enough. Plus, when I trade in my running gear for my good ass jeans on Wednesday when I do go out, I will probably wobble around for a minute in my freakishly high heels but, dammit, I WILL BE MORE CENTERED. I WILL. All those times I've hit repeat on the Glee soundtrack while I'm reading People in the tub are TOTALLY worth it. Totally.
More will be revealed, I am sure of it. This is enough for now.
Since you've been so kind to read all the way through all this business tucked in an overdone metaphor, here's the shameful vision of me swathed in red plastic that I promised. After the jump, of course.
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