My Year of Growth

Good grief, what a year! There’s a part of me that feels like this entire year was wasted, but I think back to where I was at this time last year and I know that isn't true. I’m a completely different person. I have different interests, a different mindset, even a different job. I couldn't go back to the person I used to be. And I wouldn't want to. I've learned an unbelievable amount about myself this year. I've learned what my motivations were, where a lot of my fears came from and why I thought the way I thought. It’s been a hell of a journey and a very significant one.

Two years ago, I was happy. At least, I thought I was. I was married, I had my own house and I was on my way to starting a family – which is all I ever wanted. Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of having my own family. As I got older, the number of children I wanted got smaller and the age I wanted them got larger. But, I always thought I’d be a mother by 30. Before that, probably.  I got all my ducks in a row. I went to college, got a job, bought a house, and got married. In that order. But, things fell apart quickly. I became bored. I began writing again, which led to me digging up feelings I hadn't touched on in a while. I became frustrated that I couldn't get the job I wanted, which eventually ended with me in grad school. And that was when things began to unravel. I started learning and growing and feeling myself being pulled away from this life that I had built. I finally found my niche. I was finally surrounded by people I had things in common with. I finally had people who understood me, who accepted me and had similar goals. And it was unbelievably addicting. I started coming into my own. My friends began telling me that I seemed like a different person. My goals changed. And unfortunately, that meant that my life began going in a different direction than I expected. The gap between my old life and my new life got larger and as desperately as I tried to hold on, I just couldn’t keep it together. It swallowed me up, and I landed in this entirely different world. Certain aspects of my life were better than ever, but other aspects – the ones that always seemed important to me – just didn’t have the same appeal anymore. I felt like I was being held back. I felt like so many things were open to me now and I didn’t have the opportunities I would have if I’d made some different choices. But, was that fair? Was it okay for me to suddenly change my mind about things I’d wanted so badly little more than a year ago? Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was completely unfair and incredibly selfish, but it was also necessary. I’d been trying so hard to be a certain person, the squeeze myself into this mold that everyone expected me to fit. I tried to be little Miss Housewife when I was home, doing chores, going shopping, cooking dinner. And I hated all of it. I was home alone most of the time. I spent my weekends tending to my house and my in-laws and my husband. I had zero time for myself. Or even for my own family. I was angry and I was frustrated and I was unbelievably miserable.

I’ve since stopped trying to tell my side of the story. I stopped trying to get those on the other side to understand. I wanted desperately for everyone to know how hard I tried. I wanted everyone to know how much I had loved my husband. I was embarrassed and I was scared and I was devastated. But mostly, I was confused. And when my step-father passed away two weeks after I moved back in with my parents, it was more than I could take. All of the control I’d had was completely gone. I’d worked so hard all my life to keep control. I had to know that, to some degree, I got to decide what happened in my own life. And that had been proven to me over and over again to be completely untrue. Holy. Shit.

During all of this, I somehow fell completely in love with my best friend. At first, it was amazing. My savior. The man who held me while I cried and picked me up when I couldn’t stand being alone in the house, or let me do homework at his house when I couldn’t deal with the screaming. The one person who had been there for me, through thick and thin, good and bad. He knew me inside and out. He knew my heart. And he loved everything he saw. But, it got serious very, very quickly and I panicked. What the hell? I wasn’t even divorced yet. What the heck was happening? Where did my friend go? Why is everything different? It was back and forth, off and on for quite a few months, before we got things back on track. I had to take a step back for a while and evaluate things. I had to let myself feel alone for a little while. I had to know what that felt like. I had to let myself feel the pain, to feel the loss, to truly grasp everything I had lost. Because I was afraid that I was trying to use him as a replacement. I was using him as my escape. We jokingly called his bedroom my “treehouse,” because it’s where I went when I ran away. And I didn’t want to do that to him. I wanted it to mean more than that. I didn’t want him to be my escape.

I had so many anxieties about the relationship to begin with. We causally talked about marriage and children and I kept thinking “I’m still married.” And then I pulled away, because I desperately didn’t want to be the girl that married every man she dated – a whopping two. I went on one date with someone else and he was a very nice guy, but not for me. It was an experiment for myself. I found him on a dating site and I put in all the qualities I was looking for – everything I thought I wanted. And it wasn’t right. I couldn’t see myself falling back into those old habits. I couldn’t see myself holding myself to those same standards I’d had before. Things were different. I was different. And what I was looking for in a partner was different. Things are amazing now. With the help of my therapist, this amazing best/boyfriend and an incredible amount of will power and motivation, I’ve overcome a lot of the things I was terrified of. Things that used to be so important just aren’t anymore. And that was another thing that was terrifying. I didn’t know what was supposed to be important and what wasn’t. For twenty-eight years I’d lived a certain way, had certain values, held certain things close. I had to shuffle through them now and re-prioritize. I had to figure out what was worth holding on to and what could be thrown away.

It’s hard to ignore the fact that once I removed all the negativity from my life, good things started to happen. I got a promotion at work and even though I eventually had to agree to a short sale on my house and ruined my credit for a couple of years, I’m finally on track to getting that part of my life together. I lost my step-dad and I can’t get him back, but he’s everywhere. We still talk about him and remember him and he visits me in my dreams from time to time. When he first passed away, my family asked me to write something about him to say at his funeral and I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t in the right mindset to write. And I surely didn’t know what to say in that moment. Now I’m able to wrote some of it down. He was a man of few words and while he certainly deserves more than a “few,” I think that’s all that’s necessary. He was a man who showed his love in subtle ways. He was never the kind to say it and he wasn’t affectionate, but when you needed him, he was there. He spent a week straight at my house when I first moved in, putting in new light fixtures and ceiling fans. He put in our new toilets, even though he despised plumbing. He dug up a tree in our front yard that I’d casually mentioned had died during family dinner. And while his temper was something I was always terrified of as a child, he was a great big marshmallow on the inside. When we threw him a surprise party for his 60^th birthday, he circled around the block before coming inside, because he didn’t want everyone to see his tears. And when I asked him to walk me down the aisle at my wedding, he didn’t bother holding them back. Even though he knew that would put a rift between me and my father, he agreed to do it, because he knew it was important to me. And when I told him I was getting a divorce, he stood by me and supported me and didn’t ask any questions when I packed my stuff up and moved back in. After a couple of beers one night, he looked at me and said, “I know I’m not your father, but I care for you as if you’re my own.” It was the closest he’d ever come to saying he loved me, but I knew what he meant. He was a good man who doted on his grandchildren, was proud of his family and absolutely adored my mother. All he ever wanted was for her to be happy and he did everything he could to make sure she was. I respected him and I admired him and I looked up to him and there’s no doubt that my life was better because he was in it.

Despite everything I’ve lost over the last year, I wake up every day thankful for what I’ve gained. Even though the circumstances aren’t ideal for it, my mother and I are closer than we’ve ever been. If you told me we’d ever be hanging out in her room talking about our plans for the weekend, I’d think you were nuts. If you’d ever told me I’d be standing in her bathroom with her, helping her straighten her hair, I would have laughed at you. But, we both lost our husbands at the same time, and while it was incredibly difficult in the beginning, we finally understood each other. We knew where the emotions were coming from. We knew not to take it personally when the other one was having a bad day or needed someone to yell at, or just feeling over all crummy. She’s come a long way this year too and she’s an inspiration. She’s an insanely strong woman and she doesn’t get told that enough.

Even though I’m back with my mother, living under her roof, somewhat abiding by her rules, I’ve gained a certain level of independence. I don’t have to be home to cook someone else dinner. I don’t have to be around for required family dinner nights, or spend my weekends running errands for someone else. My time is my own again. And most of it is spent with my incredible boyfriend, who I am more in love with every single day. I hesitate to say I’ve never felt this before, because that sounds like I’m discounting my marriage, but I can’t deny its truth. I feel more loved, accepted and secure than I ever have before. I know that he has my back. I know that he respects me. I know that he adores me. I know that he thinks I’m beautiful and that he’s proud to be seen with me. I know how important I am to him. It physically hurts the second he leaves the room and I cannot breathe whenever I see him smile. Whether we’re alone or in a crowded bar standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a bunch of strangers, we are the only two people in the room. And even if we’re just watching TV in one of our bedrooms, his existence makes it feel like an event. He looks in my eyes and I know that as long as he’s around I’ll never be alone. He holds me in his arms and nothing else in the world matters. He’s redefined trust and love and happiness and opened my eyes to so many different things. I know that I’m better because of him and I know that this last year would have been absolutely impossible without his unconditional love and understanding. I’ve stopped caring what others think. I’ve stopped worrying about what someone else is going to say about my decisions. And if we end up married (which I hope we do), who cares if I’m labeled as “the girl who marries every guy she dates.” Because I still believe in love and I still believe in fairy tales. No more looking back. No more dwelling on the past. No more wondering “what if” and “how come.” Because life is happening now. Good things are right in front of me. Everything I never knew I always wanted is here and this time, I’m grasping it. This time, I’ll actually get my “happily ever after.”