Distraction

I’ve been gone for so long…

I bought a house. A 3 story building in fact. A 3 story building that requires a lot of love. A lot of time. A lot of money. But I bought a house.

Its one thing to say you want something so badly, but it’s quite another to want something that requires so much investment.

If you read one of the seemingly endless home-improvement/renovation blogs, everything looks so easy. The changes are dramatic – from old, rundown, drab and dreary to sunny, brightened spaces with colorful punches and stylish decorating. There is never any real sense of cost – in sweat equity, in financial, in physical labor. It’s simply ugly one day and gorgeous the next.

So…not realistic.

I bought a 3 flat (as we call them in Chicago – they are called other things elsewhere apparently) that has rickety old stairs, cobwebs (spiders – I’m about to faint), years of grime over levels of paint that was used to cover even older grime (and lead paint probably). There is faded peel-n-stick floor tile on the wall in one kitchen used as a backsplash – yeah…And a tenant that refuses to leave, citing the city’s reluctance to generally evict anyone, even though they haven’t paid rent in over a year…let that soak in.

Add to it all, there is a water bug infestation with insects that are so large, they look like crickets. So big, my brother-in-law and husband squeal every time they see them. (Did I mention that both guys are 6’3’’ and over 250 lbs.?).

So, this is my focus right now. Spending hours on Pinterest gathering ideas for paint colors and DIY Network for instructions on how to install crown molding. It’s a somewhat welcome distraction from the disastrous rest of my life – actually, it’s more of a distraction that is being used to get me back on track. Focused on the positive and not on the drama.

I’ll take it. At least for now.

The Big Reveal

I've mentioned before that I've been working towards something momentous and now the moment has arrived...

I bought a house.

Not just a house but a fixer-upper that needs lots of love (which I have in spades) and lots of money (ummm...)...

This house is actually a 129 year old, 3-flat building that was slipping into foreclosure by a very dramatic, overly ambitious (apparently) woman who bought it as an investment. But I don't think she really thought through the idea because to make money on an investment, you have to make an initial investment. It's clear that, short of new locks and some cheap paint, this place hasn't been updated since the 1930's...gulp!

Adding insult to injury, there is a tenant that refuses to leave the first floor unit, so now I am a landlord, albeit, a temporary, reluctant landlord. But, I am sure that this will all work out.

This golden nugget of an update is stolen time - I am swamped with work and I have a huge meeting today that I have to prepare for. But I have lots more to share. This is already an adventure in the making...

But I just couldn't wait to share some of my good news. Can you feel it?

The tide is changing for me!

Never Say Never

“You don't get to call me a whore. When I met you, I thought I had found the person that I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I was done. So all the boys, and all the bars, and all the obvious daddy issues, who cared? Because I was done. You left me. You chose Addison. I'm all glued back together now. I make no apologies for how I chose to repair what you broke. You don't get to call me a whore.” Dr. Meredith Grey, Grey’s Anatomy

 

This line has been in my thoughts every day since someone else posted it on Facebook. I used to love Grey’s Anatomy but after all the drama, the plane crash (WTF) and killing off two of my favorite characters, I’m pretty much done.

Nonetheless, I have loved much of the heartfelt dialogue, sometimes from Meredith Grey. Not the whole “…choose me, pick me, love me…” speech – that sucked. I hate hate hate weak, wimpy women.

But, I do love much of what that character has to say. It’s truth (to me). They are real thoughts and feelings and pain. So much pain. I responded to this quote because I can only imagine what K thinks about my current life direction.

I got back together with my husband.

Let that sink in.

Ok, grab a glass of wine….now…

I invited him to go on vacation with my friends and I for a number of reasons: I didn’t want to be the odd-man out with a trip full of married folks, I didn’t want to go to Paradise and not have anyone there to experience it with me. He is a great person to travel with – fun, down to try anything, willing to go anywhere. My biggest issues with him were that I had to plan everything, pay for anything and tell him where to go and what time. What I forgot was that he did all the heavy lifting; he made sure that every tip was taken care of; he got us to the gate on time. He held his own. So, I invited him to go.

Long story short, we had the best time. Our friends were fun (of course), the resort was beautiful, the weather was spectacular and I got a fantastic tan. I also shed some of my shyness and tanned topless! (when in Rome and all that…)

So, in the midst of all this vacationing, he and I re-kindled a spark. I didn’t plan it and neither did he. We both had decided that our marriage was over. I realized that I was gay and he realized that he needed to move on. The problem with both of those plans was that neither of us found anyone that we felt like we could grow old together with. He met women who were out to fleece his pockets and I found …well, you know what I found.

I also realized that I was at another fork in the road. This time, I could take the road that led me towards an unknown path, filed with loneliness, exclusion, drama and pain. In none of my experiences in the gay community did I feel like a part of that community. I was never welcome. I was always too much of something or not enough of something else. Either I was tainted by my past relationships with men, or I was too old, or I was a mom who couldn’t go out to Happy Hour (oxymoron) during the week because I was doing homework with my kids. I even was evicted from not one but two (!) lesbian groups because I didn’t attend 2 meetings – so much for inclusion.

Ditched by the one that I loved, I was left to figure out what to do next – all alone. And I realized a few truths – my truths:

·         I don’t want to remarry anyone – male or female. I will fight for the rights for all who want to get married but I’m not going down that road with anyone else. I’m either remaining married to this guy or no one at all.

·         I will never adopt someone else’s interests if I don’t find them interesting. For example (and this may make me a bad lesbian but…) I don’t get into Tegan and Sara. Maybe if I had come out at 18 and listened in college…no, I still doubt it. I’m not a hipster. I’m 42 years old and just not into being alternative, edgy or hip.

·          I’m also not into LGBT-specific books exclusively – I have other interests. I actually like crime and fiction and all kinds of other stuff. Being gay is not my only characteristic.

·         I love making love with and having sex with women. Period. No reflection on men. I find women (some women) beautiful and sexy. But sex isn’t all there is to life.

·         I want a life – a robust, full life that includes a partner that wants similar things out of their life. Someone who I can trust with my heart and my safety and secrets and everything. Someone who doesn’t cut and run when life gets tough. Because inevitably, life does get tough. There are losses and health issues and problems and tragedies and I need someone that I can depend on.

 

So, I choose to work on re-establishing my relationship with my husband. Because he can be that person. He hasn’t always been. Selfish and spoiled – he’s the first to admit that he wasn’t the best husband the first time around. But, the difference is that he now recognizes where he went wrong the first time.

 

How will this work? I mean being a gay woman who is married to a man. I have no answers and neither does he. All we both know is that we can start by communicating honestly with each other about the taboo topics that we avoided the first time. And by giving each other space to be who we are. I’m not going back into anyone’s closet and he’s not demanding that I should. In fact, the experiences he’s had these 3 years have opened him up to thinking differently and seeing the world differently and being less of a dictator and more of a partner. It’s odd. I never saw this coming.

 

But, you should never say never.

 

 

Picking myself up and dusting myself off…

I’ve been busy. Not too busy to read (blogs, books – on a brand new Kindle no less), but too busy to sit down and write.  Coming down from the holidays now and I have a moment to check in a just think…

This past holiday season was one of the best in a very long time. Although I had to continue stretching myself to get valuable family time with all of them (because they cannot get along together), I got my batteries recharged. My cousin is continuing to party his way thru life like a college student, which I have no problem with. Except he turned 30 this year.

Not a good look if I say so myself.

His long suffering girlfriend was in tears, but I believe that she will wait it all out because she really loves him and sees a future with him. She also loves his mother so much (my aunt) and cannot bear to let go of this relationship. Sigh. I wish I had some magical words of wisdom to share with her (and harsh words for him) but I don’t. Ultimately, they are all adults who have to be responsible for their choices in life. No matter how wrong I believe that they are, these are not my burdens to bear. Still make me sad though.

My dad came thru with ridiculously extravagant gifts (which we all loved) and just needed to recharge his batteries, which was nice as well. To think that my home is seen as a place of refuge and comfort and safety. It fits my intention.

I’ve continued to over-commit to mother’s groups and community activism and school participation, so there are never ending requests for meetings, conference calls, volunteer hours, etc.

Additionally, I am in the middle of purchasing a new (older) home that will require lots of loving care. It’s a multi-unit building that I plan to rehab into a single family home for my children and I. There will come a day that they will leave the safety and security of the nest, and I would like to create a safe place for them to land when they come back. Because, let’s face it, temporarily or for a longer term, they always come back…So the process of buying a home squeezes into the cracks of free time that I have.

And my children have their very busy lives - from swimming lessons for Sydney to high school entrance exams for Tyler, to playdates and movie nights and trips out with friends, my patience (and pockets) are empty…

But, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

My life, as chaotic and stressful as it can be right now, is overflowing with goodness, kindness and contentment. I am learning to be kinder to myself, and by extension, others around me. I am finding that I enjoy the company of my children because I like the people that they are turning out to be. I am starting to believe that I am worthy of all of the goodness that is flowing in my direction.

By extending myself, I’ve met some new and interesting people who (to my great surprise) are very interested in getting to know me as well. Friendships are so terribly hard to come by. Honest and genuine friendships, I mean. But, it’s worth it to try. To be courageous and put myself out there.  Having courage is not my strong suit. It’s the character trait that I have identified that I will work on this year.

And my first step on this road is to pick myself up and dust myself off…

Isn't She Lovely?

The day after Christmas is my daughter Sydney's birthday.

This time of year is always so busy for us since we try to celebrate with every member of our family and since none of them get along, we have to celebrate separately (can you say pain in the ass?).

Making Holiday goodies from Pinterest ideas. Don't judge us!

I'm exhausted too!

My sweetie always makes out like a bandit (see below). Seriously Grandpa? Drums??

Usually she has a party at home with just family and we send cupcakes to school so that her friends could celebrate with her. But this new school has banned birthday celebrations (Boo Hiss!) citing obesity problems and disruptions in their lesson plans (since when has school been so BORING? Outlawing cupcakes? Screw them!)

Fake gun (obviously), real crazy uncle

Anyway, so this year Syd turns 6. She's been great about it, only wanting everything that she sees on TV. She wanted the fur vest for months (I know, right?) And she wanted shoes with heels (I didn't buy heels but I did buy sparkly ballet flats and cute boots so I get a pass).

We're still opening bags around here, filled with items that I never even saw.

So, before we get too far into our routine again, I wanted to stop and say...

Happy Birthday Sydney Elizabeth. I love you my darlin'!

Time Heals, Right?

Last night, I had the most realistic dream. I dreamt that I discovered that I had been right all along – K had another lover. In my dream, I confronted her and asked very pointed questions, none of which she chose to answer truthfully. I asked these questions, even though I already knew the answers. We were at a dinner party and most people were carrying on conversations, so apparently we were civil. But, I felt vindication in my knowledge that all of her denials were false and I could prove that she played me foul.

It was so vivid – this dream. I imagined how the lover looked – long dark hair and dark eyes. I saw every sheepish expression on K’s face, every stutter before the false, every defensive nervous tic.

And I woke up from this dream – clear of head and heart. I woke up aware that my subconscious knew what my reality still cannot fully grasp. That she’s gone. That she left me for someone else.

It hurts but not as much as before. I guess I’m healing. I’m still not ready – for anything or anyone else. But, I’m eliminating her from my system like poison.

Time heals, right?

Overwhelmed

 

Yesterday morning, my body shut down. I woke up with back pain and cramps and progressively got worse as I tried to get ready for work. I also had to corral a 5 year old out of the bed and rush my 13 year old, so needless to say, I was struggling. My ex came in to find me curled up in the fetal position trying to get myself together and figure out what to wear.

Running late, I realized that I had no gas in that car … and did I mention that I was running late?

So, I pulled up to the overpriced, gouging gas station and tried to pump gas but found that the pump didn’t work! After three attempts, I hopped back into my car, drove to another pump and tried again. The pump directed me to see the attendant. Did I say that I was sick and running late for work?

Ok, so entered the gas station and found a woman standing at the lottery line, leisurely looking at scratch off tickets and (forgive me) I felt a mild sense of annoyance. I mean…I was in a hurry and all…

So, I told the attendant …

“The original pump wasn’t working and so I had to move to another pump, which now led me to come in and see you. I just want to get some gas so can I get …I don’t know…$10 worth.  I just need enough to get to work…”

He obliged and started ringing me up as a debit purchase. As I was entering my code, I saw the attendant return to the original lady and I thought “wow, she must think that I am so rude. After all, he was serving her first and I just waltzed in here…”

I heard her call out an amount to the attendant, but I assumed that she was giving him her lottery charge. As I held out my hand for my receipt, the attendant said…”That lady over there just added $10 for your tank”…

Sigh…

I thanked her profusely because, let’s face it…there isn’t much holiday cheer nowadays. But, I was touched, not just that she offered the money, but because she must have taken one look at me and realized “that lady looks like she needs a break”.

As I stood outside of my car pumping the gas, I burst into tears. I simply couldn’t hold myself together. Such a small act of kindness was almost my undoing. My poor son was left wiping my tears away as I tried to drive and dig in my pockets to find a tissue.

Once I got myself back under control, I relayed to him how earlier in the week, I sent the money for his sister to attend a field trip with her class, but someone had stolen the money out of her backpack. $10 in fact. Karma was the first thing I thought.

I owe it to someone to do something nice. That extension of a kindness felt too good not to share…

Criticism

It’s no secret that I am the biggest self-critic I know. It’s rare that I ever cut myself some slack. And it’s a pretty comprehensive attitude, meaning no matter what the circumstance, I can always find something to criticize or something that I could have done or said better. Just being honest here.

This is one of my faults that I’m working on. To be more generous with myself. More forgiving. It’s probably the hardest thing I’ve ever undertaken because I hear a little voice (I’ve mentioned that voice before). And no, I don’t hear multiple voices nor do I carry on conversations with myself…usually. But, it’s that niggling, nagging little voice that always points out what I cannot do, what I cannot say, where I cannot go, who I cannot be. This voice I’ve heard my entire life.

The other night, I was at my mother’s house and we were talking about my son’s recent academic success (he won a scholarship that will allow him to go to private school, freeing me from the worry of how to pay for it). I was on my soapbox about the state of public education in our city (it’s a mess) and I ran thru some of the activities that I have taken on to stay involved in my children’s education. I wasn’t bragging or complaining, it’s just once I got started, I couldn’t stop. My mother took one look at me (she rarely pays attention to me anymore when I speak) and she said the most amazing words. Words that I never, ever expected to hear:

“I should have pushed you more. I should have paid more attention to you when you were a child. Who knows how you would have turned out? I just thought that you would motivate yourself”.

It’s huge in my eyes because my mother never admits when she is wrong. When she has made a mistake or been unkind, she sweeps it under the rug or blames others for misunderstanding her. She’s a very misunderstood, persecuted person. Right.

Ok, let’s take a look at the statements.

“I should have pushed you more. I should have paid more attention to you when you were a child…

I was flabbergasted at the honesty in the first half. Historically, my mother has portrayed herself as a tireless advocate of my opportunities, who attended every recital and who leaped over buildings in a single bound. My recollection is something quite different. That’s not to say that my mother was neglectful or abusive. She wasn’t – at least not physically. But, my mother was never a nurturing, loving parent. I remember lots of indifference. Lots of time alone. For I was an only child  whose mother worked all day so when she came home, she wanted peace and quiet and rarely allowed me to have guests spend the night (the noise got on her nerves) nor forge strong relationships with others (she didn’t want to be bothered with getting to know their parents). I have strong memories of asking for demonstrations of her love and being told “of course I love you, stop being ridiculous. You eat, right?” or “I don’t have time for a hug right now, I’m trying to cook dinner for you. Enough already”. Few hugs and even fewer “I’m proud of you” statements. That’s what I remember and that’s what I’ve carried forward to this day.

“Who knows how you would have turned out…

That sentiment says it all – it’s the complete acknowledgement of her disappointment that I never lived up to my potential. That what I turned out to be wasn’t quite at the level that she believes I am worthy of. In short, a failure. Sigh…

“I just thought that you would motivate yourself…

Who the fuck thinks a little kid…no, a little fatherless kid with very few friends, even fewer family members and no self-confidence will ever motivate themselves? Unrealistic and cruel.

So, on the way home from my daughter’s swimming lesson (and brunch with her dad), I told him the story. I know that it makes him sad when I tell him these things and actually, he tries to make me feel better by joking around about it. We have similar kinds of humor – gallows humor – so who better to joke with about being the disappointment of the family than another disappointment of their family.

Anyway, at the end of my story, I told him what she said and I described myself (thru her eyes) as a failure, to which his response was utter incredulousness.

His answer was …“How can you think such a thing about yourself? I think that you are quite accomplished. You’ve done it all by yourself. You should give yourself some credit. Most of you overachieving friends (I broke in and called myself the underachiever) have had help getting where they are. But you…you put yourself thru school, you have a good job, you have terrific kids – I can’t take credit for them – how they are turning out is all your work…I couldn’t possibly manage the schedule that you do, what with the community meetings, and school activities…there is no way I would ever label you a failure…and neither should you”…

Why is it so hard to put my life into perspective? To see what he (and maybe others) see? It’s that damn voice that tells me that I’m not good enough, smart enough, motivated enough, strong enough. ..I hate that voice. It’s her voice.

This is me...

I found this amazing woman on Facebook (of course) who seems to find beauty and light in the world. Once I accessed her blog, I realized that I was more focused on other people than on myself. I had no readily available descriptions for myself. Coming up with these took a LIFETIME to type because I had to stop and think about what I should...and then what I wanted to say about myself. This is a work in progress just as I am a constantly evolving being who never quite fit into a box.

Take a moment and think about how you would complete these categories. It's harder than it looks...

 

About:

Mother. Daughter. Friend. Niece. Observer. Cheap date. Investigator. Supporter. Cheerleader. Assistant. Educator. Drinker. Volunteer. Woman. Aloof. Strong advocate. Neighbor. Aquarius. Reader. Sometime writer. Unique. Witty. Sarcastic. Big budget movie buff. Holiday-dreading. Birthday-celebrator. Quiet. Restless. Busy. Liberal. Open-minded. Willing to try anything. Adventurous. Pet owner. Day dreamer. Pro-choice. Spiritual. Cafeteria Catholic. Always chilled. Shaken, not stirred. Golden. Curly. Frizzy. Understated. Dislike public speaking.Tattooed. Nosy. Paranoid. Good hearted. Blogger.

 

Inspired By:
My children. Kindness. Warm weather. Serenity. Peace. Education. Action. Justice. Fairness. Elderly. Sharing. Light. Passion. Education. Meaning words. Beauty. Feelings. Yoga. Confidence. Wild animals. Red. Heat. Creativity. Courage.

Like:
Reading. Learning. Achieving. Creative spirits. Watches. Rings. Earrings. Tattoos. Curls. Green eyes. Long hair. Pedicures. Pants with cuffs. Fresh coffee. Pasta. Earthy salad. Vegetables. Gardening. The beach. Wearing flat shoes. Beer. Finding a bargain. Technology - toys. The color black. Reading while I eat. Malbec. Pasta. Silence. Humor. Laughing. Good SciFi movies. Crime books. Blogs. People who offer a window into their lives. Courageous spirits. Privacy. Action movies. Yoga.

Dislike:
Shellfish or seafood of any kind. Bigotry. Meanness. Small thinking. Small living. Control freaks. Fruity pie filling. Screaming babies. Loud noises. Sudden movements for no reason. Traffic. Poverty. Hunger. Abuse. Wearing high heeled shoes. Whispers. Public speaking. Bullying. Bad smells. Garbage. Disloyalty. Feeling poor. Disappointment. Judgment.

Good At:

Volunteering. Researching. Investigating. Suggesting. Parenting. Supporting. Being selfless. Strength. Compassion. Kissing. Avoiding confrontation. Internalizing. Rationalizing. Asking for advice. Rushing. Procrastinating. Attracting. Keeping a job. Connecting the dots. Questioning authority. Appropriateness. Criticizing myself. Feeling guilty.

 

Bad At:
Commitment. Follow Through. House Cleaning. Staying motivated. Adopting healthy practices. Making decisions. Listening with my heart and not watching with my eyes or thinking with my head. Being a wife. Having a thick skin. Ignoring judgmental people. Staying still. Staying on task.

Wish I Could:

Speak another language. Talk to my grandmother again. Forgive myself. Release myself to live my life for myself. Love myself. Fall in love. Inspire. Relax. Be creative and artistic. Have confidence.

 

Dream Of:

Having stability and financial comfort. Having more children. Living in a larger house (that I own) with light and windows and comfortable furniture. A library. Freedom. Serenity. Joy. Laughter. Music. Acceptance. Love.

I have few pictures of myself. This one was taken almost 4 years ago.

Excitement

travelphotobase.com

 

Yesterday, I went to a neighborhood brunch hosted by a couple who are well liked in my neighborhood. Both are professional people who raised two decent sons who have now started on their journeys with new wives and children, making this couple deliriously happy to become grandparents.

They bought their house in 1973 for under $10,000 (seriously?) and set about rehabbing it over the next 40 years to become a gorgeous three story townhouse. The unit used to be an apartment building with 3 units and held about 18 people total. It’s approximately 120 years old, brick and plaster with lots of history.

So, this couple invited us into their home and served us delightful foods, strong coffee or cocktails (guess which I chose) and witty conversation. Many of the neighbors who attended were people that I never see but they trust the couple and enjoy them, so they came.

Clocktower via wikipedia.org

Towards the end of the party, the husband took me and my ex (I invited him because I wanted to open his mind and thought that he would enjoy "meeting and greeting") on a tour. The entire home had been reconfigured into a three-story, single family home with nooks and crannies and fun accents everywhere. The husband, Bob is/was an architect – a quiet and observant man who is quite witty once he starts to speak. His wife, Jane was a school teacher, evidenced by her willingness to jump in and entertain the few children when they started to get bored.

It was evident that Bob loves his home.This home was fabulous in its simplicity. It was practical but not boring. It was functional and yet it was high-end. It was a fun and exciting house that was decorated delightfully. I didn’t respond to the art that they showcased but I did love the clean lines in the structure. The use of light and architectural principles that Bob used when re imagining his home were inspiring. From the walk-in closet that included a small open window that captured the natural light from the skylight in the hall, to the use of direct and indirect light sources (on dimmers) that created different moods, to the openness of the loft that eliminated most of the third floor and yet left just enough to offer another reading space. It was amazing. There was an office area with one desk for the two creative people to utilize and an en suite that contained the closet, a bedroom and a full bathroom all carved from the upstairs living space.

I saw exposed brick walls strategically placed and bookshelves everywhere. An exercise room, another bathroom and a much larger library on the first floor that, I knew with certainty, would be my refuge if I lived there. The best and most surprising part was the addition of the laundry chute and the suggestion of a dumbwaiter delighted me and made me clap and exclaim “I have GOT to have one!”

This imaginative house energized me. It made me focus (for the first time in weeks) on something other than the mess that was/is my life. And it gave me something positive to become fixated on.

Some time ago on this blog, I mentioned that I had something kind of major that I was working on but that I wasn’t ready to mention it yet because I wanted to be sure that this was a sure thing. But, waiting has never been my strong point and I have to disclose that I am working on buying a house. With no money, destroyed credit and little experience, I am foolishly optimistic that this is going to happen for me.  My neighbors are all (in their quiet and non-intrusive ways) are trying to help me by telling me when new homes are available, by offering advice on rehab strategies for working with 100 year old homes, for inviting me in to experience the magic of a much-loved home. It also helps to have a slighly overbearing yet well-meaning mother who wants us nearby.

I am truly blessed.

 

PS. I've added pictures from some of the more distinctive fixtures in the neighborhood since I couldn't find any of the town homes. And for history's sake, the 3 story properties that I am interested in were company-controlled, overpriced rental units built for the workers and their families to cram into. It's ironic that this much space is now highly desirable...

nicksuydam.photoshelter.com