Day 54:

Thankful for my Chub. Don't tell me that didn't get your attention.

Gonna be back tracking again...my trusty "Chub" contains my notes of thankfulness for my missed blog days. Okay, I know some of you are snickering at my notebook's nickname, but it wasn't my choice, honest! Although, if I wanted to name it...what better!?

Life continues to explode every step I take. Venturing out of the comfort zone creates a new landscape all unto its own...completely unknown to me...and frightening.  Every explosion that doesn't destroy me, takes my breath away, and I have to consciously regroup and remind myself of the journey. I must force myself to continue to break old habits. It is sometimes a very solitary journey...one I am guessing many of us make without saying a word, looking out from behind our own walls wondering if all those walking before us are also making this lonely journey to discovery.

Living with children and under the constant scrutiny of them and the ex-husband creates an even more daunting mine field with constant attempts to reveal my true self to those who want to see it and protect my true self from those out to destroy...or those who would rather me just disappear. It is a somewhat ugly dance of missteps, misconceptions, judgments of old, distortion of memories. I attempt to focus on the future, trying to release all anger and pain, attempting to create myself whole again.

I feel like a puzzle that has been thrown on the floor, only to be put together when time and the inclination permits. The dog has chewed on some of my pieces, some pieces seemed lost, only to have been recently found in someone's pocket, and as the original puzzle picture comes together, it is clearly worn with pieces not quite fitting together properly.

Day 50:

In hindsight, I have to laugh that today is the halfway mark of my challenge to be thankful. After such a pleasant, relaxing, rejuvenating weekend, what could possibly go wrong? Famous last words. The man upstairs appears to be in a devilish mood, leaving me grasping for a thankful thread...Only the thread I chose turned out to be like a loose thread on a sweater. I pulled and the whole damn thing came unraveled.  I am thankful to still have the thread?

Without going into detail, let's just say my teenager returned to her role as defiant and certain I was the enemy for checking on her whereabouts after dark. Ah yes, and then the dear Ex swoops down as her friend, certain to affirm her suspicions that I am a crazy lunatic, emotional, unbalanced, blah, blah, blah.

Well, let's be honest, all of you who know me, know that to be true. I am emotional, crazy at times, and self-affirmed out-of-whack. Totally unreasonable and an absolute challenge to be around. Yup, let's put me back in the loony bin and throw away the key.  Oh, but I must retort, I come from a whole batch of Loony Tunes...and I have to say, if I had my druthers, which I do, I am going to pick bonkers over the "I'm the sane, reasonable one" any day.

It is certain my kids will choose the path of least resistance. After all, if your dad gives you an expensive skateboard to bribe you to not do something self-destructive for a month versus the mom who punishes you for "doing that thing" by taking away your cell phone, computer, and IPad...hell, I'd chose the skateboard too. Mom is nuts, and Dad is the reasonable, sane one.

Unfortunately, this kind of distracted parenting has become the norm in our society as more children grow up with divorced parents. I feel sorry for my daughter who is trying to navigate her way through these teenage years and getting some very inconsistent feedback from her parents on her "questionable" choices. I wish that our spousal relationship and those battles remained in the past and did not cloud our choices when trying to help our kids grow up healthy and positive. My son confirms we are not the best parents. Well, that's disheartening to say the least. And like us, our kids will be certain they will do better than us as parents. Therein lies the horrid cyclical nature of life as I do believe my Ex and I were convinced we too would do a better job than our parents. Yes, you may all Laugh Out Loud at that one!

Oiy! So, the balance I sought from getting away kind of blew up in my face. I am taking a deep breath. "Give her space."  You parents out there know for sure what comes next. "Mom is distant. She doesn't care about me. Mom doesn't do this....that...and the other thing for me." I have learned that I cannot win this battle with my daughter or the Ex. I can only do my best to be there for her when she needs me most, as unreasonable as that may sound.  I can only hope what my mom tells me is true, "When your kids hit 40, they will like you again!" Thanks, Mom!

Day 49:

I am very grateful we made this trip. Making the impromptu plans to get out of my comfort zone proved fun and relaxing. Long ship ride home into the heart of thunder storms in Milwaukee...a harbinger of things to come. Ahhhh, sadly, yes. The memories of this brief respite will perhaps provide us with a glimmer of hope and joy.

Day 48:
I am thankful to find my "silly" muscles still work. Gotta exercise those more often! Life is too short not to have a good belly laugh once in awhile. Exploring a different town, watching the natives, chatting about life, and eating good food seems to make all life's ills melt away.

Day 47:

Totally thankful for some R&R. The beach in Ludington is beautiful...white sand, clear water...and just a short walk from the little Blue Spruce Motel. The motel room is small but quaint with wood paneled walls, a rocking chair, a tiny bathroom with absolutely no water pressure.  The owner is an older woman and her daughter, and the teenage granddaughter is on sight nearly every day with them maintaining and cleaning. So friendly and open. In the tiny motel office there is a shelf with the owner's published books and a self-published book by her 79 year old fiancé. There is hope for me yet on all fronts.

Day 46:

An impromptu trip to get out of town and hopefully help my daughter and I regain some much needed balance in life.

By going back to write these entries after the fact is teaching me a huge lesson...time is fleeting and things change on a dime. I remember my Dad drawing his political cartoon every morning no matter what. A true testament to creative and strong work ethic. He clearly knew that the political landscape changed so rapidly that a cartoon printed a day late would result in it no longer being relevant. The same seems to go for the art of blogging if you desire to do it on a regular basis.

With this long weekend I was able to keep the daily experience alive with FaceBook postings and my own notes, but now I look back in longing, knowing the "end" of the story...or at least the next chapter.

So, I am thankful to have the ability to have taken photos and look back at them and remember the good times. Day One pictured here was a fun venture after a sleepless night of packing and getting ready. Two and half hours on the Ferry Express across Lake Michigan from Milwaukee to Michigan. Then a one hour drive from Muskegan to Ludington where we would spend our weekend.

Day 42:

I am grateful that these two women challenged my thoughts of the future and my new found freedom that is hurling toward me at light speed. Meet my sister and her betrothed, Karis...soon to be wed in August. They offered me the opportunity to stay at their luxurious home for 2 weeks to watch over their huge garden in DC while they were on their honeymoon. Although very tempted, I, of course, had to remind them that I have a job, 2 cats, 2 kids, and a garden of my own...Oh, and a job! We laughed and joked about the events in our lives, the upcoming nuptials, and a vast array of other things.

It was only after I got off the phone that I realized, breathlessly, that I could actually start planning just such getaways as my daughter gets older.  It suddenly occurred to me that I am that close to the end of the forced sentence I have lived under my ex's control for so very many years...a decade in fact. Could it be true? Could I leave the state and not have to "check in" with the man who tore my life apart? Holy cow....it's finally happening...I am regaining my freedom. 

So, to dip my toe in the water I quickly planned a 4 day trip with my teenage daughter in tow to Michigan on the Lake Express Ferry. Oh, certainly not something as glamorous as I hope for the future, but an adventure none the less. One of many to come. 

Next, stop...time to upgrade my ailing laptop so I can continue to work efficiently and still travel....time to spread my wings. Oh yeeeaaaaaahhhh! Momma has been cooped up WAY too long! Time to do a canon ball in the deep end!!! Ladies...Thanks for reminding me that the water is fine...jump!

Day 41: I am thankful for the escape of imagination.

The train whistle blew…

I was carrying a large cardboard box half my size containing a precious item.

I was small, just 5 years old, my blond, wispy hair hanging in my face because I needed both hands to wrangle this awkward item up the stairs of the train.

The item in the box suddenly shifted its weight.

I could see the frightened little eyes through the air holes in the box.

The uniformed man on the train knew what I was carrying and saw I was having trouble lifting the box.

My mother was busy with the luggage and navigating all three of her kids on to the train.

The man smiled warmly and extended his hand, taking the box with such ease, as if it weighed nothing.

He could see I did not want to let the box out of my sight, assuring me,

“It’s okay, little lady, your baby will be safe on our train. We have a cabin where you can all get settled for you trip back to Denver. And the little critter here can watch the sights as we go.”

We departed San Francisco…my new kitten, George, and I planted firmly by the window in the snug cabin watching as we made the long beautiful trip through the Rockies.

I wrote. I was happy.

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All aboard, next stop…

I was so excited that I could barely contain myself.

My mom and I were travelling to New York from Washington DC to visit Uncle Nicolai.

Well, he wasn’t really my uncle, if you get my drift, but he was a wonderful man who had become like a dad to me when my father left.

He had invited us to meet his mother in Upstate New York.

Being the youngest I still got dragged where mom went, so together we went.

In return, my mom promised we would spend a night in New York City before heading for the backwoods of Upstate.

“Deal!”

I don’t know which was more glorious…Union Station in DC, the train ride, or Grand Central Station in New York.

Both stations were decked out for the holidays.

Staring out that train window, the trip was like a fairy tale, taking a trip back in time, away from the ills of the life of a 9 year old, parents’ divorce, the long move from Denver to DC, starting at a new school.

I wrote. I was happy.

 
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The next trip brought uncertainty…

It was a momentous occasion, although I found the whole thing quite confusing.

My mom insisted we dress up.

My sister was becoming a nun.

Both parents would be at the ceremony at the convent. One of the first times I had seen my father in years.

The train trip to Baltimore was short and fraught with tension.

But the day was warm and sunny.

And once again, I got to stare out the train window and let my imagination take me to faraway places.

I wrote. I was happy.

 
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Another milestone…

I was all dressed up again…well, as much as a tom boy dresses up for such an event, much to my mother’s chagrin.

Khakis and a t-shirt was all I could muster.

I did not like all these changes.

Now my big brother was graduating from college.

I was in the control of pubescent demons, and I did not let anyone forget how displeased I was.

We once again made the trip to Union Station, which still held a significant amount of awe for me despite my teenage hormones making me think everything was stupid.

We made our way from DC to Pennsylvania, eventually ending up at a small station in Swarthmore.

It was a very small outdoor wooden station, like an out-post you would see in the Old West.

Once again, my imagination took me to a different place.

I wrote. I was happy.

 
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Last East Coast trip…

I would soon be moving to Santa Barbara, CA with my mom, finishing my junior year of high school at a new school.

My best friend and I climbed on a train in Virginia for a “girls’ trip” to a sunny beach in Georgia.

I got my first taste of the South and independence.

It was a glorious few days of silliness and joy spent with an amazing confidant.

This woman became the god mother to both my children and remains my best friend 35 years later.

I wrote. I was happy.

 
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Missing the escape of the train trip…

In California, I realized how much the automobile dominates this country.

There were few train trips to be had, just a few quick jaunts from Santa Barbara to Los Angeles.

But those short trips certainly riled the beauty of the other trips I had in the past.

There was something magical about having majestic mountains on one side of the train and the sparkling blue Pacific on the other.

But life was quickly swallowing me up.

The magic of the train window was fading.

Why was the ability to let my imagination take me away waning?

I couldn’t write. I told myself I was happy.

 
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Fast forward…

Another college graduation, only this time it is my son’s.

We now live in Milwaukee with my son attending college in Chicago.

I am divorced after meeting my husband in California, moving to Wisconsin to be close to his family, and 20 years of marriage.

Within the last ten years, my husband left, I lost my businesses, my home, car, self-esteem. I got diagnosed with breast cancer and had a double mastectomy, lost my boobs too, I guess you could say.

Then this train ride…a short one from Milwaukee to Chicago.

The countryside is flat and boring.

But something happens.

The magic of the train window returns.

When I look through the window I see possibilities.

I can once again imagine.

It’s not my destination.

It is the journey and allowing the world of the train window to exist.

I write. I am happy.  

Day 33:  It feels like yesterday I went in for my double mastectomy...the start of a long road of treatments for breast cancer. They say the day you have the cancer removed is like your birthday...the day you get to reset the clock. And then begins the countdown to the 5 year mark when the possibility of recurrence is dramatically reduced. Today I am very thankful to be celebrating my third birthday. Life is full of its ups and downs, but I have been extremely lucky to have family and friends who stood by me and helped me feel whole again. I chose this picture, not so much for the boobs but for the lack of a head, for I do still feel like sometimes I am missing that part, perhaps misplaced on occasion. Nonetheless, today is a very happy day for me to celebrate life and survival. Thank you to all those who helped me make it to this point, even though I have lost my head in the process!

Day 31: This morning I woke up very pleased with something my kids and I did last night...a self-imposed evening without the IPhones or IPads in hand and in our faces. It was a revelation to see just how much we had engrossed ourselves into these tiny bubbles of being while co-existing in the same room. Our moods improved, humor seeped back into our lively interactions, laughter soon overcame us. Baby, Bubble, Burpee, Bugar, Burgers....Yes, a ridiculous tongue twister we made up and challenged each other to say 10 times fast. I don't believe any of us repeated it 3 times without flubbing and cracking up. Even my 15 year old commented on how fun it was to be off our phones and just be crazy for an evening. She was the hardest sell. But I think all of us learned a valuable lesson...we cannot allow ourselves to become slaves to the screens when there is so much life and silly fun to be had with those around us. I am thankful we had that evening and hope we can make it as much part of our lives as FaceBook, texting, Instagram, and Candy Crush.