Surviving the Bombs

Part Three:  Surviving the Bombs

          I forecasted another storm, a bomb already launched and on the way, locked onto its target:  my girls.  Ever since their dad first told them that he didn’t love their mommy anymore and wanted a divorce—back when they were 8 and 11—both girls have struggled with goodbyes.  They absolutely hate saying goodbye to those they love, especially when they don’t know when they will see those loved ones again, so I knew an emotional fallout was imminent.  They would watch daddy leave, give him one last, long hug and one more kiss, wave goodbye, and watch him drive away, headed to the airport.  Then, the bomb would detonate as tears fell, sobs escaped, and devastation wrapped around us all.  Even the cats seemed sad. 

          Because I could see the incoming bomb and knew that my daughters would need to heal, I had a plan in place.  Step one:  Save myself first.  Check.  In other words, process my own emotions.  Having time alone to work through my personal issues helped as it is so much more difficult to be there for them when I am an emotional mess myself.  Like the stewardesses caution on the airplanes…I had to put on my facemask first or else I would not be any help to them.       

Step two:  Take them to The Fix Therapy (http://thefixtherapy.com/) for a twenty-minute therapeutic muscle massage in order to release built up tension and stress.  Check.  For the past year, I have enjoyed a weekly (and affordable!) muscle therapy massage from The Fix, and it has helped me with so much.  I am learning to notice when and where I hold tension in my body/mind and to relax, surrender, let go—not only of physical knots but also of negative thoughts and feelings.  At the same time, the weekly therapy has helped with various aches and pains.  I definitely wouldn’t miss a session, and I definitely wanted Devin and Beth to enjoy this.   We walked through the gym and into the office.  The girls entered with knotted muscles, clouded thoughts, heavy feelings, red noses, and tear-streaked cheeks, and 30 minutes later, they left with loose muscles, clearer minds, and lighter emotions.  Peace.  The Fix is like a shelter in the midst of a raging storm.  

          With the first wave of defense/recovery accomplished, we headed to the Avenue to watch a funny movie.  Step Three:  Generate loads of laughter.  Check.  My priority that night was to hear my girls laugh, so I took them to see the funniest movie that I ever remember seeing:  21 Jump Street.  I grabbed us tickets, popcorn, and bottles of vitamin water, and we found seats near the middle edge.  I had warned the girls that the movie was vastly inappropriate yet uproariously hilarious, “Be sure to cover your eyes when I tell you.” 

For two hours, we lost ourselves in the silliness.  For two hours, our laughter and giggles surrounded us, filling empty places and lightening our spirits.  The entire time, Beth had one hand over her face as she chanted, between laughs, “This is so disturbing.  This is so disturbing.”  As we exited the theater, she said, “We’re buying that movie when it comes out!” 

Then, my favorite part of every day:  at home with my girls as we share and talk and dance and laugh. That night, we each recounted our favorite parts of the movie and laughed some more.

Step Four:  Spend time in nature.  Check.  The next day, we spent an afternoon at the beach.  Part of the time, we read.  The rest of the time, we soaked up the sun, digging our bare feet into the embrace of the sand and listening to the lullaby of the waves.  Each rush of the water soothed as the heat of the sun warmed us all the way through and the salty breeze invigorated us.  We took a short walk to hunt for seashells and let the silence speak to our hearts.  We returned home renewed.

Step Five:  Spend time with God.  Check.  While the day at the beach had already spoken to our spirits, attending church brought us closer to God, ourselves, and each other.  When singing lyrics from Matt Redman’s “10,000 Reasons (Bless the Lord)” such as, “The sun comes up, it’s a new day dawning…whatever may pass and whatever lies before me, let me be singing when the evening comes.  Bless the Lord oh my soul,” cleansing tears streamed down my face.  After church, we ate curry and bourbon chicken at Asian Too while discussing the sermon, and I sat back and observed Beth and Devin.  They were once again brimming with confidence, light, laughter, and love.  

Time and the five steps had worked.  I couldn’t stop the bomb from detonating, but I could help keep it from destroying them.  And, I could model how to survive the bombs that fall, especially the unexpected ones.

I Stand Strong

Part Two:  I Stand Strong

Suitcases packed, they left for the next few days.  I kissed my girls, waved goodbye, and breathed deeply with relief.  Rare time for myself, but to begin with, I needed to relax. 

I wasn’t sure why this was affecting me so much as I had worked hard to move on and create a good life for me and my daughters here; it pissed me off that I was allowing his past words and thoughts to get inside my head now.  Something had triggered this hurricane of raw emotions, and by God, I was going to discover a way out of the storm and into peace. 

While I didn’t know it at the time, I found a good routine for handling this intense stress.

First, I did my P90X Kenpo workout and visualized M’s face as I punched the air.  Then, I wrote morning pages, pouring out my thoughts and feelings onto the page.  Next, I put in a funny movie and laughed a lot before calling some friends for much-needed consoling.  Finally, I went to the beach and walked while taking photographs.  By this time, my mind and body had calmed down, and I felt so much better.  Ultimately, I realized that it was important to do positive things that make me happy.

Stopping by home.  I want to make white chicken chili for dad. 

The text from Beth restarted all of the pounding tension.  He dropped them off to run to his hotel, and I helped the girls make the chili.  Before he returned, I left to get some dark chocolate for me.  Again, I needed something to calm me down, and food has long been a comforting presence in my life.  As I struggle with emotional eating, I did not want to turn to that during this crisis; however, I also did not want to turn to alcohol as alcoholism runs rampant in my family.  I ate half of the sea salt and almond dark chocolate bar, and on the way home, I stopped at Publix and walked to the alcohol section.  I stared at the Corona Light for a long time; an employee asked if I needed help.  I didn’t want to buy a six-pack of beer because I knew I’d drink it all within a day or so, so I left without purchasing anything. 

When I returned home, they were talking, so I said that dinner was ready and dished up.  I sat at the table, and Beth sat down with me. 

“I don’t want us all to sit at the table together,” Devin said.  “It’s not a good idea.  It’s too confusing to have us all there.”

So, Beth carried her bowl out to the patio, which is directly across from the dining room table.  I picked up a book to read at the table and sat alone as M and Devin dished up and sat outside with Beth.

“Devin, I’m not really comfortable with this.  I don’t think it’s fair to your mom,” M said.  I didn’t hear Devin’s reply, but I told them not to worry about it.

“Since you’re allergic to cats, I’m really okay with the three of you sitting outside to eat.”  Yes, it was extremely awkward, but finally, it was over. 

Again, they were all gone, and again, I couldn’t calm down.  I didn’t know what to do.  I stretched and took some deep breaths.  I wrote.  I watched TV.  Nothing helped, and all I wanted was a beer. 

I drove back to Publix and called a friend on the way.  As I paced outside of Publix, right before their closing time, she cautioned me against using alcohol to dull my emotions.  “Get a good night’s sleep.  If you need to, grab some Melatonin to help you sleep and then go to bed early.”  I bought Melatonin and went back home to watch Hungry for Change, which was inspiring and soothing.  At 11:30, I popped a pill and was out by midnight.

Two other times during my time “alone,” the girls stopped by to grab something, and every time I experienced the gathering storm of agitation and had to find things that helped me release and quiet my mind and body. 

I hope I never feel that raw again, but now I have strategies and activities that I know help me survive.  Now, I remember to stop and look at how far I’ve come and all I’ve accomplished alone.  Snip, another string, hopefully the last one connecting us, is gone, and I stand strong.

To Be Continued...

(Check back tomorrow for the next part)

All I wanted...

          When you are hurting, sad, or depressed, what helps you feel better?  Where do you go? What do you do?  What about when it’s your children who are in pain?  In her essay, “Bombs Bursting in Air,” published in a The Longman Reader, Beth Johnson discusses the dilemma parents feel between the desire to protect our children from the inevitable “bombs” in life and the need to teach them how to handle these unwelcome explosions.  How do you do that when the devastation is something that both parents and children face together?

Part One:  All I wanted…

          My ex visited our daughters during the first part of spring break this year.  The first I’d seen him in over two years, and the first time I’d seen him since our divorce was final in December, I did not handle it well.  I was a live wire of pulsing raw energy.  He was all smiles and political politeness, as if saying, “Hey, isn’t it so great now that we are divorced and we can be best friends and everyone’s happy.”  As if the world approved of his actions and smiled down on him.  Usually not much of a drinker, all I wanted was to pound a beer.  Either that or pound the smile off of his face.  I needed something to take the edge off and didn’t know what to do.  After arming myself with makeup and my best outfit, I drove to meet them at the Avenue.  It was the only night we planned to hang out together as he’d just arrived in town after not seeing the girls since summer and I wanted to see the Hunger Games with the girls the first time too. 

I’d encouraged them to start dinner without me.  On the way, I dialed my best friend who said, “The only thing that works for me is a shot of tequila straight up.  Or valium.”  So, I took a deep breath and walked into Pizza Gallery, and there he was.  He looked exactly the same and yet somehow different…maybe more at peace.  They were all three eating pizza.  Beth had saved a slice of the gluten-free, dairy-free for me, and Devin had ordered me a cup of chicken Tuscany soup.  All I wanted was a beer.  I sat down and greeted everyone.  The girls glowed from fatherly attention, though Devin looked a bit anxious.  Nervous tension vibrated throughout my body, so I excused myself and went to the bar. 

My anxiety spiked until we were all sitting in the theater, spread among a few aisles.  I thanked God for the huge turnout.  Even though we’d arrived thirty minutes early, the room was packed, and we were lucky to find seats for Beth and her friends to sit with M and Devin and our friends to sit with us.  The movie enthralled us, and I was happy to lose myself in the story for a couple of hours. 

Afterwards, I just couldn’t do it anymore, so I decided to forgo Redberry’s frozen yogurt and told them I’d meet them at home.  I’d offered for the girls to stay in the hotel with him, but they weren’t ready to that night.  For whatever reason, they wanted the comfort of their own bedrooms.  For me, that meant my ex in my house when he dropped them off.  For me, it meant prolonged torture of the hammering energy.  The girls showed off their cats and rooms.  Finally, he left, and the girls talked to me about the excitement of seeing their dad again, about the intensity of the movie, about the confusion of their dad being in what has been only my house, my town.  And, Devin also expressed some anxiousness about opening up to her dad only to say goodbye again in a few days.  After listening to them and helping them work through their emotions, I fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning he arrived early and came in to wait while the girls finished getting ready.  I decided on a good night’s sleep over the armor of makeup, and I felt naked. Thank God I’m not married to her anymore with her lounging around the house like that.  Beth packed the lunch I’d bought her, and I took my morning vitamins.  Devin dressed in her room, and he paced the hallway across the bar from us.  Thank God I’m not married to her anymore; look at the Craig's List furniture and hand-me-downs.  I handed Beth her vitamin drink, and she made a face while drinking it.

“Why are you making that face?” He asked her.

“I don’t like it.”
“Then why are you drinking it?”

“Cause Mom’ll be mad if I don’t.”

Thank God I’m not married to her anymore; she’s such a mean bitch and tries to control everyone and everything.  Like the narrator in Edgar Allen Poe’s ”The Tell-Tale Heart,” I could hear the ticking of the “heart” of our 19-year marriage—I could hear the noise, building louder.  Louder.  Louder.  Thank God I’m not married to her anymore; she’s so big.  Faster.  Faster.  Faster.  Thank God I’m not married to her anymore; she takes all my money. The ticking increased.  Louder, louder, louder. Thank God I’m not married to her anymore.  It was all in my head, in my body.  A chaotic mass of throbbing pressure that all equaled me:  unwanted.  Discarded.  Not enough.  Nine o’clock in the morning, and all I wanted was a beer.  

To be continued...

(Check back tomorrow for the next part!!)