Tag: divorce

In Memoriam

It happened yesterday. Butch emailed me that Claude had died while he and Nancy were at church. You don’t recognize that name, do you? But you do know who that is. It’s the Woodpile Kitty, the original Woodpile Kitty. If you visit this blog’s site (woodpilekitty.com) instead of reading posts delivered through your email, you will see to the right of the screen a short blurb about the Woodpile Kitty and a photo of her wistfully looking out the back door toward her woodpile. I thought I had written a blog about her when I first started this blog way back in 2011, but I looked before writing this and, no, I did not. So here’s her story.

It was 2004. A long, long time ago it seems. Butch was in the garage and I went out to tell him something. That’s when I first heard meowing. He had not heard all the time he had been out there. It sounded like it was coming from the behind the garage. So I went to investigate.

Our garage was detached from the house. Behind it we stored all kinds of things: wood for the fire place, scrap wood from various projects, a neatly stacked pile of bricks, various flower pots and the compost bin. By the time I got there, the meowing had stopped. Nevertheless I half-heartedly looked around. There was no kitty.

Oh, well, I thought, maybe it was my imagination or maybe the kitty just left.

For the next couple of days, every time I went to the garage I heard the meowing and every time I investigated. But always the meowing stopped and I didn’t find a kitty.

Butch came home from work one evening and we were standing in the house looking out the glass door as I gave the kitty report for the day.

“I think you have Claude Rains out there,” Butch pronounced.

“Who?” I said.

“Claude Rains. You know, the Invisible Man. You’ve got the invisible kitty back there.”

A day or so later, I looked out and saw a little grey kitty hop across the backyard and disappear behind the garage.

I knew it! There is a kitty back there. I got a flashlight and, determined to find her hiding place, I went to investigate properly. In front of the scrap wood pile I practically laid down on the grass as I shined the light up into the pile. That’s when I saw two red eyes staring back at me. I had found her!

Now all my energy went into coaxing her onto the patio so I could catch her. I put a dish with food in it out in the yard and watched her eat it. Each time I refilled her dish I moved the plate a little closer to the patio until finally she was coming onto the patio to eat the food.

Soon she was sleeping on the patio furniture at night. If we were very quiet we could see her when we first woke up. But one sound and–shoom!–she was off back to the woodpile in a grey blur. There was no way I was ever going to be able to put my hands on her. So I got a live trap from my veterinarian. I was able to lure her in with some food but she was so light that she didn’t trip the latch. She would simply eat the food and then saunter back out again. That’s when I knew this was a job for Butch.

He rigged up a string that ran from the house into the trap. He would pull it once she was in the trap to get the door to drop. I was on watch. We waited and soon she was back in the trap. I gave the signal and Butch pulled the string. The door dropped and the kitty went berserk. She ran around the cage so fast, hissing and growling, that she looked like a grey blur. I was afraid she was going to hurt herself. But finally her energy was spent and she huddled in the corner, her body heaving from the exertion and, I imagined, also from fright.

Butch took the trap with her in it, into the bathroom and opened the trap door. We left, closing the door behind us. We left her in there for several days with food and water. I went in periodically to talk to her and touch her. Finally she let me put her in my lap. Even though she didn’t try to escape, she was not relaxed.

When we opened the door to let her wander the house, she got up the courage to leave the bathroom. And immediately found a place to hide. We would eventually find her but then she would hide again in another place. We spent a lot of time looking for her to be sure she was ok. She never came to us for petting. We never heard her purr. She didn’t even meow. The only way we knew she was ok was that her food and water disappeared.

And, yes, we named her Claude, the Invisible Kitty.

One day I was sitting at my desk when she came in and sat at my feet, meowing. This had never happened before. I didn’t know what to do. Should I pick her up or would that just scare her into running away? But I studied her. She really seemed to want to be picked up. So I did and cuddled her on my shoulder. She cuddled back. And started purring! It felt as if she was saying she loved me and she was glad to be living with us. We sat like that for several minutes before she started squirming and I put her down.

I told Claude’s story quite a few times at retreats I led, in children’s sermons at my church and sometimes just talking with friends. In those stories I always ended by saying that I had lived in a woodpile until I was rescued by God. Since I am prone to wander back to the woodpile, I have be rescued all over again and again and again.

However, recently I have begun to think of Claude’s story as a lesson about fear. She was afraid to leave her woodpile and come into the safety of the house and being cared for by Butch and me. She was afraid until we forced her. She would never have chosen to live with us by her own volition. Like Claude, many times my fear has kept me from trying new adventures and experiences or even kept me from taking action on the more mundane aspects of life like making a difficult decision or doing something in a new way. What have I missed out on because I was too afraid to try? Even here God steps in to somehow work my fear for my good.

By the time Butch and I got divorced–a situation that carried a lot of fear with it–we had acquired another little rescue kitty, Frank. Butch agreed to keep both of them for me until I was settled and had a place to live that was suitable for cats. If I ever decided I did not want them, he said he would keep them. After about a year I starting considering bringing them to live with me. However, for several reasons I decided not to have them and signed over my parental rights. It was a difficult decision, one that I felt guilty about. But, in the end, it was the best decision for all.

This summer Claude got sick.  The vet found a tumor in her stomach that mysteriously disappeared.  She began to improve but she was old.  It was inevitable that soon she would leave us.  And so she did.  I am sad but remembering how she came to live with us and her funny habit of running under the bed when anyone rang the doorbell brings back happy memories.  And now telling you what Claude taught me will, I hope, somehow keep her memory alive.  

So, good-bye, dear Claude.  You are loved even though you are gone.  I’ll see you later in your heavenly woodpile. 

As always,

Woodpile Kitty ATX

The Solution

Our story opens with me having decided to move up to a larger apartment in my current complex.  I had come to this decision while working with a financial planner and also on advice from my son who suggested “an interim solution“.

Finally the day came for me to put my plan into motion.  It was October 3, 2016, when I received a letter from the apartment management with a “Lease Renewal Offer”.  My current lease was going to expire on December 11 and the letter explained my options: a minimally increased rate for another 12 months in my one-bedroom, a more than $200 increase for a month-to-month rate, and a reminder that per my lease I am required to give 60 days notice if I’m planning to move out.  It was time to make my move.

On November 15, I went to the management office and talked to Lauren about renting a two-bedroom apartment.  She showed me the two floor plans that had two bedrooms. One plan had two bedrooms that share the same bathroom and the other plan had a main bedroom with an en suite bathroom and a second bedroom and separate bathroom.  I chose the one with the en suite bathroom.  I wrote the rent for each on the page with the floor plan I had chosen along with notes about transfer fees, apartment number, and the date it would be available.  And most importantly the date of this conversation.

Then on Thursday, November 17, I submitted a move-out letter stating my intention to move to a larger apartment within the complex.  The next Monday I went to the management office to settle which apartment and find out the next steps.  But when I walked in I immediatley noticed that something was different, wrong.  The doors to the two managers’ offices were closed.  No one was sitting at the two desks outside the offices.  It was very quiet; no music; some lights were off.  Then a young woman I recognized came out and asked if she could help me.  I told her why I was there for and we sat down at one of the desks.

After I explained the situation and which apartment I wanted and how much rent I had been told I would be charged, she took the paper and went in the back.  When she returned she said the rent would be about $200 more.  I explained that I had been in on November 15 and pointed to the date on the floor plan.  I was   told the rent would be this amount and I showed her on my paper where I had written the amount.  She left again and this time a man came out with her; his name was Kenny.  I had never seen him there before but he acted as if he was in charge.  “Strange”, I thought, “but ok, I’ll go with it.”

I explained to Kenny everything I had explained to the young woman and he agreed to the rent.  Next step was sending me a lease to reveiw which they would do in the next few days.  When the lease came in my email, I reviewed it.   It was all as expected except for the rent which again was the higher rent.  I went back to the office with all my papers in hand and this time the managers’ offices were open, people were sitting at the desks outside and the lights and music were on.  Now this was normal except I didn’t recognize anyone.  A young man, Saia, sitting at one of the desks, asked if he could help me and I explained the situation to him.  He pulled my lease up on his computer and left.  In a few minutes, both he and Kenny came out.  He told Saia to honor the cheaper rent.  He told me they would send another lease for me to review.

It was all so weird, these new people and all these mistakes with the rent.  I commented to Saia that there were so many new people.  It was then that I found out the apartment complex had been sold to a new company, Greystar.  It all became clear.  But so odd that the sale and change in management hadn’t been announced to the residents.

A few days later I received the final lease for me to sign.  I reviewed the pertinent details like how much rent.  Again it was the higher rent.  I was so frustrated and wondered if they were trying to pull one over on me.  So I called Saia and told him about the discrepancy in the rent.  I did not tell him about my ugly suspicions.  He apologized all over the place and promised to correct the lease and send it to me that day.  He did; it was correct; I signed it.  Finally, my new apartment was all ready to go.  It was going to be repainted so it would be like new, I hoped.  I was very excited.  It was December 20—Merry Christmas to me!  I could start moving in on January 6—Happy New Year to me!

I began planning the move and packing.  My new apartment was in the same building, same floor—second—but off a different breezeway.  So there was going to be lots of stair climbing—nineteen steps up and nineteen steps down. (I frequently counted them when I carried my groceries in.)  Two of my sons and my daughter-in-law were going to help with the move.  Fortunately, my daughter-in-law worked for an office furniture distributor so she got one of their mover guys to help with the furniture.  I did all the packing.  On moving day everything was ready to go.

The weather on moving day was beautiful: sunny skies, rather chilly breeze, no humidity.  Perfect for stair climbing.  The move went very quickly and smoothly.  It was amazing, and a little scary, to watch the professional mover pick up my couch—a small, but rather heavy couch—and walk down a flight of stairs and then up a flight of stairs with it on his back.  He was one strong guy!  We could not have done it without him.  No way!

Once all the big stuff was moved, I told everyone I would finish up the small, light stuff and let them all go.  That afternoon, as I walked back and forth from apartment to apartment, down stairs and up stairs and then up stairs and down stairs over and over, I had a lot of time to think.  I remembered when I had sub-let and how easy that process was.  I simply took over someone else’s lease.  Of course, I had to prove I was financially able to pay the rent but that’s all.  No negotiation or fees; just move in.  Then I rehearsed the process of renting my new apartment: all the back and forth over the rent and how I had to stay on top of it or I could have ended up paying more rent than necessary.  I remembered how at first I was tempted to just accept the higher rent.  And realized that’s what the old Kay would have done instead of standing up for herself.  Wow, I really had come a long way.  I frequently thought I had become stronger, more independent but here was proof.  Tears came to my eyes.  I was simply astounded.

Around this time, I was dating a man named Berne.  I confessed to him that I was feeling nostalgic about my one-bedroom apartment.  It was the first place I had ever lived on my own and the first place I had picked out on my own, both the city and apartment.  The move was a momentous event in my life.  Now I was leaving behind a lot of adventures, tears, joy and all the growing up I did in that little apartment.  While I was excited about moving on to a bigger place, I told him, I was also sad to be leaving a place that had sheltered me through the last year and half.  He suggested writing a letter to my apartment expressing all these emotions and saying good-bye.  So after I had cleaned it, I sat on the floor in that special little one-bedroom apartment with my journal and wrote a letter.

Sunday, January 8, 2017

Dear Apartment,

This my last time to be here as an inhabitant.  One more load is stacked by the door ready to go to my new place.  I am tired and sore and stiff, way past ready to end moving.  But I couldn’t move on without telling you what you have meant to me.  You helped me grow up, become independent.  You’ve seen me cry, be lonely, be happy, be regretful, even think about going back to my old life.  You saw me grow out my grey, cut my hair short and be happy about it.  In your kitchen my habits became those of a singe person.  I started out cooking real meals with real recipes and slowly turned to canned soup and single serve recipes that I made up as needed.  I learned how to handle my finances and grow efficient in money matters.  I’ve contemplated and made lots of decisions for good or bad within your walls.  Since Augurst 14, 2015, I’ve been sheltered by you and grateful every day that I had you to call home, a warm, safe place.  So today I cleaned you up one last time.  I hope you felt loved as I did so.  I will never forget you.  So now I’m moving or have moved to a 2 bed 2 bath place just across the building.  I’ll still see you and think about you.  I hope someone deserving of you moves in, someone who will take care of you and appreciate you.  So this day is bittersweet.  Good-bye is sad but I feel confident I’m moving on as I need to.  You were my  “college” apartment, just left home figuring out life.  Now it’s time for a grown up place.  Thanks for helping me get to this place.  You’re the best, little apartment. You will always be a part of me.

Love,

Kay

Movin’ on up,

Woodpile Kitty ATX

How Far I’ve Come!

When I separated from my now ex-husband, I was a bit sheltered. Butch took care of repairs around the house, our cars, and finances. When he moved out on April 2, 2015, I began an adventure in growing up. I suddenly had to do many things I had never done on my own before. And being the journal-keeper and list-maker I am, I kept a list of those things. I ran across the list the other day when I was cleaning out a box of old papers and I thought I’d share it with you. Now, recall that I was 64 years old when I divorced, well above the age when most people have done some of these things for themselves for forty years or more. Well, better late than never, as they say.

Wedesday 4/8/2015Called AAA to replace the dead battery in my car
Sunday 4/12/2015Visited a new church (Butch got our church in the separation negotiation)
Saturday 5/2/15Went to Breckenridge Park for a walk
Saturday 5/9/15Went to Mission San Juan for a walk
Fixed undercabinet light cover from falling down
Rented a movie at Red Box (I must have been padding my stats because this is a really easy thing to do. I just hadn’t done it before.)
Figured out Apple TV and Roku on our very complicated TV set up (this task must be out of order because surely I couldn’t have gone this long without TV!)
Drove to Marfa through thunderstorm and hail
Ran at two new places in Marfa, along the railroad tracks and Mimms Ranch
Drove back from Marfa
Filled in-sink hand soap dispenser in kitchen by unscrewing it from below instead of from the top
Changed air conditioner filter Woo-hoo! (Not sure what the woo-hoo was about. It must have been more difficult than it should have been.)
Looked at financials (Butch was still putting these together but he didn’t go over them with me. I had to figure it out myself.)
Saturday 5/23/15Fixed drain on washing machine! (This was really hard. I even wrote how I did it.) Did what the instructions said and it didn’t work.  Really didn’t want to call Butch so I waited. Told myself there was no reason to call him right away. I could call repairman myself. Had lunch, prayed about it. Tried washer again and it worked! Thank God!!
Monday 5/25/15Applied flea treatment to all 4 cats by myself
Saturday 5/30/15Mowed lawn – finally. Had a hard time starting it until I remembered the primer button. Didn’t weed eat because of time. 
Monday 6/15/15Moved to “my own place”–duplex–packed and moved everything myself except my Juju chair (the rocking chair I bought when my granddaughter was born). Making my own home with my own rules and systems.
Tuesday 6/23/15Got my tire replaced because it had a nail in it
Thursday 7/2/15Took my car in for 95,000 mile service (This required lining up a ride to and from the dealership. My friend, Dolores, took me and, as I recall, we worked in a nice long chat over breakfast.)
Tuesday 7/7/15Bought and applied my new registration sticker–it’s not straight but good enough
Wedesday 7/29/2015Had my tires rotated
Sunday 7/12/2015Visited a new church–Covenant–new experience because it is a Presbyterian church. Re-entered my “old” life.
Friday 7/31/15Told Butch I wanted a divorce
Friday 8/7/2015Found and sub-leased an apartment in Austin
Tuesday 8/11/2015Retained my attorney and instructed her to file
Thursday 8/13/2015Took possession of apartment and started moving in
Friday 8/14/15Purchased bed, TV and sound bar. Set up TV and soundbar in time for cable guy. Bed delivered. Transferred utilites and got insurance. Then I went back to SA.

For some reason which I don’t remember, I left the date off some of the entries.  But don’t let that confuse you; I did not do all of those things on the same day!  Oh, if only I could.  It is a little embarrassing to admit all the things I had never done before on my own, like the car stuff.  However, when I look back over the list and remember each of these experiences I am amazed how far I’ve come.  Every time I completed a new task successfully, even if I had problems getting it done, in the end I felt more confident and competent to tackle whatever came next.  

Within a few days of returning to San Antonio, I left for Australia which I have written about previously.  I think that’s why I stopped keeping this list.  That trip was a biggie; every accomplishment after would have paled in comparison.  And I had my divorce to plan for, moving to Austin to complete, and life after divorce to figure out.  All things I had never done before on my own.

Thanks for dropping in for a read.  Now, go out there and do something new and fun!

Woodpile Kitty ATX

The Big Question

When I started attending DivorceCare I was pretty sure the Big Question would come up. It was just a matter of when. I really wanted to avoid it but I also knew I was going to have to face it sooner or later. Finally, I did face it and now, Dear Reader, it’s time to write about it.

The story starts with knowing that I am a Christ-follower and as well as a divorced person. And not only am I a divorced person but I am the one who initiated the divorce. If you’re familiar with the Bible at all you probably know that it contains a lot of admonitions about divorce. And I would venture to say that if you’re a divorced person, Christian or not, you have probably struggled with the Big Question just like I have. Churches and church people aren’t the only ones who look down on divorce and divorced people. I would even go so far as suggesting that as divorced people, we look down on ourselves. We don’t need someone else to do it for us. So when my marriage was in trouble, I avoided considering a separation much less divorce. However, the time came when I felt the only choice I had was a separation. As time went on, I came to the point where I knew divorce was the path for me. In the back of my mind was the fear and knowledge that divorce was not the way God had ordained marriage to end. And it wasn’t the way I had ever dreamed my marriage would end either.

Now, I’m not a Bible scholar or a theologian or any of those lofty things. I am simply a Christ-follower who has read and studied the Bible quite a lot. I love the Bible. I believe it’s the unfolding of God’s plan for humankind and the blueprint for how to live life. I know that the Bible contains certain admonitions and even judgements that are called into force by divorce. Quick review of what the Bible says: God says “I hate divorce” in the Old Testament in Malachi 2:16. That’s strong language. Then in the New Testament, Matthew 19:3-9 and Mark 10:2-12 are both descriptions of a question-and-answer session between Jesus and the Pharisees about divorce. Moses allowed divorce and Jesus explains that it wasn’t God’s desire; it was because of the people’s “hardness of heart”. One of Jesus’ answers about divorce is that if a man divorces his wife and he marries another woman, he is committing adultery. Then in the Mark passage, Jesus includes the woman in the judgement; if she divorces her husband and marries another man she is committing adultery. There’s a lot to unpack in these verses and there are also more scripture passages that refer to marriage as “until death do us part” but no matter how you look at it the bottom line is divorce is not God’s plan, it does not make him happy and there are consequences.

So the Big Question is: if these verses describe God’s attitude about divorce and Jesus’ teaching about divorce, where does that leave the divorced person? How can the divorced person come to grips with what they have done by divorcing and what God says about it? Can the divorced person move on from divorce and have a fulfilling, contented life whether or not they remarry? And maintain their Christ-follower status? See, it is a Big Question, isn’t it?

Of course, there was a whole session on the Big Question in DivorceCare. It was a very uncomfortable session for me and, I imagine, everyone else in the class. So what tact do you think I took? Rationalization, of course. Butch did this and he did that. I had no other choice. We had been in counseling and it didn’t work. Blah, blah, blah. Rationalizations. But still I ruminated on the Big Question and prayed about it–sort of, I was afraid of what God might tell me–and journaled about it and talked to my counselor about it. But, still, no definitive answer.

As I struggled with the Big Question I slowly, very slowly, let go of the rationalizations and began to be more honest about the reasons for the demise of my marriage, really honest, painfully honest. I journaled about these things and I talked to God about them, admitting to him what I had done. And I asked forgiveness. And it was really difficult. Definitely not a feel-good exercise. I was frequently sad and remorseful. I had regrets I needed to admit. Then I asked for forgiveness again. The more I honestly struggled and the more I owned up to ways I had behaved in my marriage, hurtful things I said or did, unhealthy ways I related to Butch, and the more I sincerely asked for forgiveness, the lighter I felt and the less I struggled.

Time passed and it seemed like God was still with me. He did not fail me or kick me out of the fold. No. It seemed that I was still accepted. That he heard my prayers. I felt his presence. So what was that about? All the admonitions and warnings and consequences. It slowly dawned on me that in all the divorce talk from God, he never declares divorce as the unforgivable sin. He never says “I don’t love divorced people”. Yes, there are consequences but we are not thrown to the wolves. We still get to sleep in the fold with the other sheep, graze in the green pastures and sip the still water. That was comforting. No, it was more than comforting. It was a big WOW! All I could say was a big “Thank you, Father.” I began to put my doubts and struggles about the Big Question in the place I put questions I consider settled: in the back of my mind where they stay until something pulls it to the front of my mind. And then one day…

It was in Bible study. We were studying the passage in Matthew I mentioned above. One of the women was divorced and she had remarried and been happily married for several years. She was tearful and distraught, struggling with the admonition that, because she had remarried, she was committing adultery. She had a beautiful marriage and her husband was a caring, loving man. They both loved God and were Christ-followers. A few women were sympathetic and encouraged her. As I listened, my heart broke for her. I hesitated but finally I told her my story, how I had struggled with the Big Question, that divorce was not the unforgivable sin; that, of course, our hearts were hardened, we were humans. God will forgive us as he promises to forgive all the times we let him down. And we still get to enjoy all the blessings of being a Christ-follower. Not to pat myself on the back, but that’s the truth that divorced people need to hear, that they long to hear. She told me later that she finally took hold of the grace that God had extended to her all along. Her burden was lifted. I will never forget the brilliant smile on her face when she told me these things.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Hearing or reading the truth of forgiveness and grace is one thing. But if a divorced person is struggling with the Big Question, whether a Christ-follower or not, I believe the struggle is a very personal one. No one can do it for you. A counselor or wise friend can only help. But it is up to the struggler to figure out their own answer to the Big Question. If you are a divorced person and the Big Question bothers you, I want to encourage you to go through the struggle. It’s not easy but in the end it’s rewarding. In my experience, finding my answer was the path to recovery from my divorce and the foundation for my life after divorce.

Thanks for hanging in there with me through this post. I’d love to know what you think about the Big Question and, if you have struggled with it, what you learned. So drop a comment. It can be private between you and me, or tell me you’re ok for it to be shared with other readers.

Woodpile Kitty ATX

Sometimes I Need a Little Help

Usually I think I can do everything myself. And that’s really how I prefer to roll. But sometimes, o.k., rarely, I know I need help and I get help. In the fall of 2015 my divorce was underway; we were beginning to work out our settlement. I knew I needed help to get through all of it. I was continuing to see the counselor Butch and I had been seeing together when we were married, driving back and forth each week or two for sessions. But I needed more. I had heard a lot about DivorceCare from a friend of mine who divorced a few years before I did. She had participated in DivorceCare at a local San Antonio church. She loved it and derived a lot of help and support from it and also made some good friends. So when I returned home from Australia, I found a class near me and started going. I had missed the first couple of classes because of my trip but the leaders let me start anyway because I hadn’t missed so much that I couldn’t catch up.

For those of you who don’t know about DivorceCare, it is a worldwide network of divorce recovery support groups. It is a faith-based program whose goal is to help the divorced person find hope for their future and experience God’s healing. In fact, a person doesn’t have to be divorced or even separated in order to attend. It’s helpful even for someone who is just considering divorce. Classes are very easy to find by going to DivorceCare.org. Currently in Austin, there are 6 classes held on a virtual platform each week from various locations in Austin, usually churches. Some locations also offer DC for kids which meets at the same time as the adult class. There are thousands of classes worldwide so it’s pretty easy to find one no matter where you live. *

In late September when I returned from Australia, I was already dreading the holidays and didn’t know whether to mark them with the usual celebrations or just ignore for one year. But my kids took the reins. They understood that the holidays would change but they wanted these last holidays with officially married parents to be as much as possible like they had always been. And they were willing to do all the planning–a big plus. Trey was leading the charge and would host Thanksgiving in Marfa, Texas, where he lives. I wanted them to be comfortable with the changes that were happening in their lives so I was willing to do whatever it took to accomplish that. I said yes even though I knew it would be hard. Silly me. I had no idea how hard it would be. I told myself I could do anything for one day or for a couple of days, right? I was bigger than that, a mature adult. And it was for my kids. It was just a big meal, no gifts and hoopla like at Christmas. In a town six hours from Austin. Not easy to turn around and go home. But doable. Right?

Then DivorceCare came to my rescue. In early November there was a special class called “Surviving the Holidays”. And surviving is the operative word. For this one class, people are invited who have been in classes at any location. People are also invited to come who have never been in DivorceCare (normally people who have expressed interest about the next class). It’s run much like a normal DC session with a video and small group discussion followed by a bit of large group sharing.

In the “Surviving the Holidays” seminar, my suspicion that the holidays would be difficult was confirmed. There really was no getting around it. But the most helpful strategy I learned was to have a plan. No matter how elaborate or simple–simple is best–just have a plan. And also scaling back on the activities in which to participate. Well, while there was a plan for a big family to-do–no scaling back there–I had a personal plan for my emotional well-being which was to just walk away from any situation that was uncomfortable. From my perspective, Thanksgiving was the big holiday hurdle because at Christmas my nephew, Rhys, and his fiancé were going to be in Austin from Australia. This would create so much difference from our usual Christmas that I didn’t anticipate it being anything but a blimp on the emotional calendar. However, first I had to get through Thanksgiving.

The holidays have so many expectations attached and so much emotion wrapped up in them even in the best of times. There are cherished memories that beg to be recreated. Sometimes disagreements and agitation boils under the surface waiting to spill over. And then with divorce, there are a myriad of changes some evident and some hidden to be navigated. When you mix that in with a big dose of emotions that run the gamut from love to anger in 20 seconds flat, the holiday becomes a minefield that cannot be ignored. All of this was roiling inside of me as Thanksgiving Day approached.

Then Butch decided not to come. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Silly girl.

During the “Surviving the Holidays” session, I didn’t know how much I was going to need what I was learning. However when “Living the Holidays” started, I quickly realized how much I needed it.

I drove to Marfa with Joe and Meredith and 18 month old Emy on Wednesday. We were booked into a BnB, a charming west Texas style casita owned by one of Trey’s friends.

On Thursday morning, I went to Trey’s and helped him with dinner. Then people started arriving. Trey had invited Meredith’s mom, Kandace, and her partner, Theo, who were on their annual winter trek to Big Bend which is close to Marfa (that’s “close” in west Texas terms). Also, Trey’s really good friends, Thomas and Belle who have a little boy, Ellis, just about Emy’s age. It was a good mix of people of all ages and interests. Then Trey’s meat thermometer broke just as he was checking to see if the turkey was done. So, as you do in Marfa, he posted on MarfaList asking if anyone had a meat thermometer and one of his good friends, Rose, had one. Trey invited her and her mom to join us since they were since they were coming anyway to bring the thermometer. A delightful collection of family and friends. I knew all these people and always enjoyed their company. Although Rose’s mom was new to me but I enjoy meeting new people–usually. On this particular day, however, I was completely blindsided by how overwhelmed I was: the noise, people everywhere, talking and laughing, kitchen commotion. Everyone was having fun. I needed some quiet. So I went outside.

I found Emy and Ellis playing in the street in a water puddle (you could not do that in Austin!) being watched over by parents. Soon almost everyone was out there watching the kids doing their cute thing. Theo drove up on his motorcycle. It was then that I knew if I made it through even the meal it would be a miracle.

Deep breaths.

A glass of wine or two.

Scrumptious meal.

Deep breaths.

Multiple desserts–it’s Thanksgiving, after all.

Another glass of wine.

I looked around.

People were leaving.

I made it! Without a meltdown.

That evening as I lay in bed playing my personal video of the day in my head, I chastised myself for how arrogant I had been to think for even one moment that I would breeze through Thanksgiving as if my world wasn’t falling apart. Silly girl! When will you ever learn? Now. Now, after it’s all over.

Last year we all–Butch and his new wife, Nancy, one of Nancy’s daughters and her boyfriend, along with Andy, Joe and Meredith, Emy and I all went to Trey’s for Thanksgiving again because the Sunday after Thanksgiving was Trey’s 50th birthday. Memories of Thanksgiving 2015 flashed in my mind as I prepared for the trip. I had been with Butch and Nancy on other occasions but this was a multi-day event. This time was different. I didn’t deny that it would be difficult; I expected it to be difficult. I was not disappointed. However, I was prepared intellectually and emotionally. And I made it, very well, I might add. There was just that teeny-weeny little tantrum when I walked out on a game of dominoes. I learned some things about myself that weekend and left Marfa feeling much stronger and confident about who I am and what I could manage.

Now this year, Butch and Nancy have invited me to their house for Thanksgiving with all the family: all the kids, Butch’s and mine and Nancy’s. This is a gigantic step for me. I have not committed yet, although I made a hotel reservation just in case. If I go it will be with eyes, as well as mind, wide open. And for good measure, my heart open too.

Moral of this story: If you or someone you know is facing difficult holidays because of loss of any kind whether divorce or the death or estrangement of a loved one, accept that it will be difficult, probably more difficult than you imagine. Give yourself and them permission to bow out of festivities. If you participate, think through each step and each person you will see and have a plan for whatever eventuality may occur. Decide ahead of time what you need to do to take care of yourself. Enlist a trusted person to lean on. And don’t beat yourself up if you don’t meet your expectations or anyone else’s. Only you know how you are feeling and you are only responsible to yourself. You’ll get to the other side of the holidays. January will come. And you’ll be much stronger when you turn the calendar page to 2021.

The really good news? It’s almost a whole year until the next holiday season. Thank you, God.

* Divorce Care classes are effected by COVID-19 precautions. So check their website DivorceCare.org for the latest information on classes.

First Challenge

Our separation started when Butch moved out the Thursday and Friday before Easter in 2015. Our youngest son, his wife and daughter came from Austin on Saturday to visit Butch and stayed the night with me. On Sunday, for probably the first time in my whole life I didn’t go to Easter services at church. It an emotional weekend. Surreal really.

And then it was Monday.

A friend had invited me to meet her for a walk. We were going to meet at her house to walk in her charming neighborhood. I woke up, dressed, got in my car, turned the key in the ignition and nothing. No click, no noise, no nothing. The battery was completely dead. My heart sank. Then it started beating rapidly in stress and panic. My first thought was I am not going to call Butch.

I knew exactly what he would do if he was there. He’d take the battery out, go to Wal-mart, buy a new battery, come home and install the new battery. Easy-beasy, nice and easy. For him. For me? Definitely not easy. First thing, I called my friend and changed the plan. She’d come to my house and we’d walk from there. That handled, I could give my full attention to my challenge.

Changing the battery myself was out of the question. Although I had helped Butch change lots of batteries, I was afraid of them. I knew they could explode if you touched the wrong place with a screwdriver. Naturally I didn’t know where that place was. I just knew I didn’t want to find out the hard way. And anyway I’d need a ride to Walmart to buy the battery. If I took my car somewhere for the battery to be changed, I would need a tow truck for the car and probably a ride for me. If the car was not working when I was with Butch, he would give me a ride. (This would continue to be a problem for me in the future.) My favor-ite neighbor–as in we could always count on each other for a favor–was out of town. She was very handy. I knew if she was there she’d know what to do. Finally, I called my service manager at the dealership where I took my car for repairs. He said I could use roadside assistance and have it towed. That did not solve the ride issue but it did spark an idea: AAA.

I had had a AAA membership for years but I only used it for travel discounts. It never occurred to me to use their roadside assistance. I had Butch. He always took care of the car and repairs and maintenance. I just drove it and filled it with gas. That I could do. So I called AAA. In about 15 minutes a mechanic arrived at my house He tested the battery, pulled out a replacement and changed it out. In about 20 minutes I was back in business. And I did it myself, well, with a little help from AAA. It probably cost more than if Butch had done it. But I solved the challenge by myself and that was priceless.

After Butch and I separated I quickly realized there were many, many things that I was going to have to do that Butch had always done. He took care of the cars, repairs and maintenance around the house, mowing the lawn, and financial matters. I took care of the inside of the house, which included cooking and cleaning. It quickly became apparent that I was going to have to learn how to do the things Butch had always done. Some of them I already knew how to do but Butch just took care of them anyway. However, there was much I had no idea how to handle. I was going to have to learn. As it turned out, the more I did, the more I knew I could do. As my confidence grew I felt better about myself. It turned out I was capable and competent. I had just never had to be that way before.

That’s when I started a list called “Things I’ve Done on My Own”. The first thing on the list is, of course, the battery challenge which happened on April 8, 2015. I put things on the list like places I went by myself for the first time, new places I went to walk or hike, driving to Marfa by myself in a bad thunderstorm. I recorded when I fixed an under cabinet light cover and changed air conditioner filters.

On May 23, another biggie occurred. As recorded on the list:

Fixed drain on washing machine! Did what the instructions said and it didn’t work. Really didn’t want to call Butch so I waited. Told myself there was no reason to call him right away. I could call repairman myself. Had lunch, prayed about it. Tried the washer again and it worked! Thank God!!!

Looking back over the “The Things I’ve Done on My Own” list, brings back so many memories of how innocent I was. In many ways I was a child. I had never had to be an adult and take care of myself. Well, now was my opportunity. Being on my own made it necessary for me to stretch my mind and, in certain cases, my body to do things for myself. The car battery and the stopped up washing machine drain happened in the first two months of being on my own. Little did I know then how many challenges and opportunities were going to come my way, times when I would be stretched almost to the breaking point. Ok, so sometimes it was the breaking point but that’s what wine and Netflix is for, right?

The list ends with my move to Austin in August which I wrote about in my last post. Sub-letting my first apartment and purchasing my TV and bed are the last two entries. Since then so many decisions, problems and challenges have come my way that looking back I am amazed at myself for being able to make those decisions, figure out solutions to the problems and meet the challenges. The results were mixed: some successes and some not so successful. Nevertheless, I did it myself.

And that was priceless.