Alone.
Current mood: sad
Category: Romance and Relationships

It's 2:30 a.m. I'm tired, but I can't go to sleep. It's not that I haven't been sleeping lately, because I have. In fact, I slept from about 10:30 to 12:30 this evening, with my daughter in her room. I guess I should consider it a nap and feel lucky I slept at all, considering she fell asleep with a near death-grip around my body. Her last words before she drifted off to dreamland….. "What if you move away to another house, too Mommy?"

Of course, at 35 I can completely see how that would be impossible. At 6, I can see how she can think this could really happen. After all, just 24 hours ago, she found out her father is moving out of this house to another house—yet of course, to be determined. This house, as far as she concerns, only exists in her mind. She knows two homes—the one where she lived from 6 months to four years (which is already beginning to fade from memory) and the one where I clamed with certainty when we purchased it that we would be here on the day she got married…..I could envision her wedding gown hanging off the back of the guest room door upstairs as everyone frantically ran up and down the stairs all day preparing for her big day. I envisioned prom photos by the fireplace, graduation parties in the formal dining room. Slumber parties….pool parties….joyful gatherings with friends and family….they were all going to take place in this house.

House is actually the key word here. There is a huge difference between a house and a home. And as much love and attention as I have put into transforming this house into a home, it probably only feels that way to her. I could hear her drifting off to sleep tonight and I felt her grip slowly loosen as she began to relax. I looked around her room…..every inch of it was so carefully put together……my imagination of the perfect princess room brought to life. It's where she feels safe and secure. However, I know that now, she will fall asleep in that room for so many nights to come, wondering what happens next.

Funny, that's what I was thinking tonight, too, as I was trying to fall asleep again in my own room. Out of habit, I continue to climb into "my side" of the bed and stay there. It's almost as if it's wrong to dare tread on "his side" of the bed. So tonight, I pushed the dog over and I made myself try to get cozy right smack dab in the middle of this monstrous king-size bed. I couldn't sleep. I turn on the television and watch a show about young girls who kill their newborns. I was so disturbed, I turned off the television and tried to go to sleep – again. One word and feeling kept running through my mind—alone.

I am alone.

Yes, I have two sweet girls upstairs. Yes, I have an incredible network of support of friends and family. My work and church have been unbelievably supportive of me during this time. And in an odd, yet blissful twist, I have incredible support from my blogworld. The kind comments on both spaces often bring me to tears. It's humbling. But there is only so much these wonderful people in my life can do. They have their own lives to lead, and their own problems to tackle. At the end of the day, it's just me. Alone.

All of the sudden, I began to truly appreciate my uniquely dysfunctional family. My parents divorced when I was 4. I have maybe three memories at best of life prior tot their divorce. The memories are very short and vague. I don't remember my parents together at all. I consider that a blessing. What I do remember, is when my mother and step-father married. I was excited about the wedding and being a part of it. I was thrilled to have his children become my brother and sister—as we were already such great friends. However, I felt strange having this new man in our house who all the sudden got to make all of the rules. As much as I liked him and appreciated his kindness, there was an obvious line there—this man was not my father. And even though I rarely saw my own father, my fantasy was that he was out there, pining away for me….wishing he could see me more…..the perfect guy alone in the world missing us. Truth is, I later learned, nothing could be further from the truth. I was probably about 6 or 7 when I developed this fantasy of my father—a musician who sounded just like Willie Nelson who always made me laugh and never ran out of Juicy Fruit gum. My daughter is 6, going on 7. She has very distinct memories of her father, and of her father and I together….of all of us together. Obviously, I know about all of his failings and faults. She doesn't. Just as a little girl should be, she is in love with her daddy…..and he is her hero.

As I was tossing and turning just hours ago, my thoughts were so scattered…..about the present and about my childhood. I grew up just 45 minutes away from my dad and saw him about twice a month. I was fine with that. It was like visiting an uncle or another distant relative. The man who set my curfew, who grounded me when I broke the rules, who scolded me when I was bratty to my mother, who gave me a list of chores….lived in my house. My step-father. This was also the man who bandaged my scraped knees when I fell off my bike. He took me to and picked me up from various practices when my mom couldn't be there. When my mom had conferences out of town, he tried his best to give me and my sister two perfect ponytails, even though they were incredibly uneven and lopsided. He cooked for us when mom couldn't. He took us to church. He prayed with us. He made us clean our rooms. He helped us with our homework. He tucked us in. When my first love broke up with me for someone else, I ran straight to him and cried on his shoulder. When I went to college, he walked me through registration and helped me design my class schedule. He moved me into my dorm and into all of my apartments throughout college.

When I was offered my first job as a newspaper reporter out of college, he was the only one home when the call came from a publisher in ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Killeen, Texas. I was so excited and I ran straight to him to tell him the news. He was beaming with pride. He played a dual role with my dad in my first wedding, as far as giving me away. He actually did give me away at my second wedding. My father was not present. During my first divorce, he was my confidant and constant cheerleader. Every email to him was promptly returned. He walked me through it and helped me see things from a man's point of view so I could avoid scary pitfalls. Five years ago, when I almost divorced my current spouse, he was right there again….a shoulder to lean on. I knew I had to pack for myself and take care of things alone since we lived far apart. He made sure I had enough money to keep my car in good shape, and he gave me a stack of packing boxes he'd been gathering. He never let me leave the house to fight my battles in the big city without a prayer.

About two months ago, when I made the final decision to go through with this divorce, my step father was sitting in my kitchen, reading through some of my daughter's school work. He knew there was tension in the house and asked if everything was OK. I broke down and told him I planned on filing for divorce the following week. No words were needed. He just hugged me. I cried. Every day since, we have exchanged texts, calls, or voicemails. If I don't know what to do next and feel panicked, I call him. If I am unsure of something my spouse is doing, I consult him. He usually has the answers, and even if he doesn't, he listens and gives the same advice without fail—we can all pray. And I know that he and my mom are praying for me and my girls every day. To date, my real father doesn't even know I am getting a divorce. Honestly, I don't plan on telling him until I really have to.

The reason I am taking this walk down memory lane is because it dawned on me tonight how fortunate my mom was—how fortunate I was—that she married someone who automatically loved us as much as he loved his own children. He loved us because he loved her so much. And as his love for her has grown, so has his love for us. He treats my children like his own grandchildren. They know him as Pop Pop, and as far as they are concerned, he is their true grandfather. How lucky am I….to have a great mom and a great dad….and a wonderful stepfather and yes, even a really nice stepmother. They have been in my life since I was my daughter's age. They have all done whatever they could—despite their obvious issues—to make sure me and my sister always felt loved and supported. We may not have had everything we ever wanted, but we had more than enough.

I realized tonight that not every step-child has it so good. In fact, most of them probably don't. In a world where divorce is as common as getting the morning paper, step-families and blended families are everywhere. I realize that chances are, me and my girls will become part of one. It's hard to imagine that, but should I ever re-marry (the thought makes me nauseous now, but I have hopes) my girls will have to learn to adjust—just like I did—to another man in the house. He won't be their dad, but he'll play a critical role in their life.

This is all fine and good, but I am gripped with fear wondering how or if anyone could love me so much that they are willing to take on the emotional and financial expense of helping raise my own children. I can envision someone thinking they would want to…..wanting to date me…. but when it comes down to the three of us as a package deal….would someone really step up to the plate? Thing is, because I have had such a stellar example of that, I won't settle for anything less than what I experienced in my own life. Granted, we had our growing pains along the way, but to this day…..my mother and I won't always tell each other we love each other when we get off the phone, but my step dad never hangs up the phone or never drives away without an I love you…… Now that I'm grown and a mom, to me that means that yes, he loves me…..but more than that, he loves my mom….I can't imagine someone really wanting to go through all it takes to raise kids these days—the emotions, the expense, the drama, the fear—just to be with me. It may seem like a good idea on the surface, but I feel like reality would scare him away. Whoever that is…..

My youngest daughter is 2 ½. Assuming that her father sticks with the state-mandated "you can't move more than 100  miles away from each other rule" – which I understand and respect—that means I'm here for another 16 or so years, easy. Who can commit to that? Who would want to commit to helping me get my girls through their teen-age years and college? Who would understand why I want to give my girls everything I can for their weddings? Who will help me enforce curfews, dating rules, homework guidelines, and bed time rituals? It's too much for me to ask someone to take on. It doesn't seem fair. Yet, I can see me doing all of those things for someone I love. I guess it's just hard for me to imagine someone loving me that much to make those sort of sacrifices……..marriage is hard enough…..We'd be dealing with our own relationship in the midst of trying to raise children—his, mine, our's….whatever…..I feel like damaged goods.

I feel alone.

And then I realize that this fear is one of the many fears that has kept me in an unhealthy relationship for so very long. Fear of the unknown can be crippling. It certainly had me paralyzed with fear. Funny thing about the human spirit, just when you think you are so broken that you can never mend….you pull yourself and not only survive…but thrive. I think that is what is happening to me right now, despite my spouse's bitter words, horrible accusations, and empty threats. He told me tonight that I will regret this decision for the rest of my life and that he looks forward to just smiling and nodding as he "moves onward and upward" while I drown in my own undoing. My first instinct is to agree and go back to my old life. It would be easier. In a way. Thing is, if I do that, I'll be alone.

That's right….alone.

So I'm left with weighing this decision about my life. Would I rather be alone in an unhappy marriage where it's painfully obvious why I feel this way….or would I just rather physically be alone? I choose the latter. As much as I hate the thought of it, at least I am living an authentic life and I am doing everything in my power to make the most of this blessed life God gave me. At least I am showing my daughters that they should and can strive to have it all….and that if they make a mistake, it's OK. God has blessed us all by giving us more than once chance. But He only gives us one life. I have to keep that in mind.

I told my mom recently that if I stayed in this marriage, I would be really pissed off at myself as I draw my last breath on my deathbed. She told me that's the only confirmation I need. I laughed. She's right. I guess I should focus on that, rather than wondering about all of the what ifs in life. I guess if someone loves me enough, the girls will be a bonus in his life, rather than dead weight.

Life experience is the best teacher, and I can honestly say I have learned more than I ever thought possible in my marriages.

I have learned that I don't value myself enough to hold out for someone who couldn't even imagine loving anything or anyone else but me. I will never fully enter into another relationship again until I know I'm first—not just in their intention, but openly and honestly. No lies. No hiding.

I have learned that somehow, I think it's OK to be my partner's "consolation prize." It's not….and I can never do that to myself ever again.

I have learned that I often feel like my love for someone is enough for both of us – it's not, by the way.

I have learned that I can't fix anyone.

I have learned that, really, people don't change all that much.

I have learned that the words 'I love you' are only words until they are put into daily action. I have also learned that the words 'I'm sorry' don't mean a thing until you feel it.

I have learned that sometimes, the best thing you can do in a relationship is turn your cheek when you don't like something……but only just a bit so you can keep an eye out. Never look away and pretend what's hurting you isn't really there.

I have learned that men lie. Period. They just do. Maybe they are lying to protect you, but nonetheless…a lie is a lie.

I have learned that sex doesn't have to be a chore on a to-do list. It's a gift to be given and received in marriage. It's not a right, and it's not something to be forced no matter what.

I have learned that affection—that doesn't always lead to sex—is critical in a relationship. It builds trust and comfort.

I have learned that it matters a great deal to me that my partner in life not only believe in God, but also love and seek Him.

I have learned that it's critically important to watch—and soak in—how the person you want to be with treats his fellow man…..strangers, friends, parents…everyone. It says a lot about his character.

I have learned the critical importance of choosing a partner who is available to you—emotionally, physically, and spiritually. A man who does what he says he'll do….stands by his word….and who is there for you…..is, simply, a real man.

I have learned that little things mean a lot – opening doors, getting things done without being asked, simple phone calls or emails during the day, kisses goodnight, fun surprises, spontaneity, PDA, dancing just because she likes to, love notes, flowers just because…..all of those types of things…can make a huge difference in a relationship. "Big things" are nice….but to me, at least, it's the little things that mean everything and that reveal the true love story.

I have learned that I'll never settle again. I will listen to my mind and heart. I won't accept "good enough." I'll pay attention to the inner voice I just recently rediscovered. I haven't listened to her in the past, but this time, I have promised her that I will.

And hopefully, by doing so, I won't always be alone.