Fractured Thoughts

Christmas Not My Favorite Time of Year

Let’s see. I believe it’s been well over six months since I last wrote on my blog. I’ve been a busy girl. Sold my house. Was “our” house, but since he so willingly gave it up in the divorce I made payments for over a year then decided to sell and down size. Did I share the money with him? Are you kidding? Actually, there was a moment when I realized I was going to make twice what we bought the house for that I offered to share if he would help finish all the projects he had started and left. I think he wanted to, but he admitted his girlfriend told him he wasn’t allowed to talk to me let alone be around me. Too funny. So, I did what any ex wife would do. I did what I could to the inside and focused on our beautiful yard. And the realtor was sure that the yard was a major selling point. It was on the market two days and I got two offers. It was stressful doing everything myself, but I learned a lot. After the sale I bought something smaller with two lots and paid cash. No house payments!! It’s all mine. It’s not the big house I had, but just knowing I own it and don’t owe a dime has allowed me to sleep at night. This is not where I want to be forever, but it’s perfect for now.

Thanksgiving with my kids in Rapid City was wonderful. A house full of my kids and grandkids. It was just what I needed. You see Thanksgiving with my ex was always a full house. In order to allow the kids to go to their in laws we had Christmas at Thanksgiving. We decorated the tree upstairs and one downstairs. We feasted on great food, played games, watched movies and opened presents. Then everyone was off and the ex and I spent Christmas with his family on the reservation. It was perfect. It worked for everyone. Anyway, when we separated and then divorced all the holiday spirit just left me. Thanksgiving was harder then Christmas. That first year I stayed home and didn’t go anywhere. Christmas I helped at our local art center. That’s me on Santa’s lap looking happier then I felt inside. This year I spent Christmas alone…had invitations, but just wanted to decorate the house and think about my future. I got the house decorated, but not sure I made any future plans.

I can’t believe it’s already March. Three more months of school then what? I’m optimistic that something good is coming my way. Not sure what, but I’m going to be ready for it.

Diggin up Bones

For a year and a half I’ve put off going through pictures.  And when I moved I boxed them all up, framed ones too and haven’t put any out in my new home.  For one thing my much smaller place just doesn’t have the rooms or walls that my old house did.  For another…of course the pictures of the kids and grandkids will eventually find a spot, but the boxes of my past are the ones I’m avoiding.  It’s the ex pictures that I’m avoiding.  I have them all.  All fifteen years of our life together are piled in neatly stacked boxes.  I kept them all.  During an argument, about the time I boxed and bagged all his things and threw them in the garage, I said I’d give him some of the pictures.  He shouted back that he didn’t want them, that I could keep all of his personal stuff.  I know he said it out of anger, that he would really like to have all of his fishing and golfing pictures, but I took him at his word.  They are now mine.  And so now what do I do with them?  As my personal property I could scan them and use them on my blog.  Why?  I’ve given this a lot of thought.  Now that the hurt and anger has passed I’ve forced myself to focus on the good things about our relationship.  We had a lot of good years together.  We had a lot of fun and happy times.  And since this blog will eventually be read by my children I want them to know me, my life and not just remember the break up and sad times.  So, as time rolls on you may see pictures of my ex and even some of us together.

Spring Anyone?

It’s supposed to be in the 50′s today.  Cloudy right now, but it feels springish.  I just finished shampooing my living room carpet.  Melting snow has a few muddy spots in the yard and of course that’s exactly where my dog and cat tromp through.  Short of stopping them at the door and wiping each muddy paw I just let them in and deal with the mess.  I am so ready for warm weather and just aching to plant things.  Anything.  My old house had a beautiful yard with huge pine trees and perrenials coming up everywhere.  I do miss the yard…not the house…just the yard.  My new place is wide open spaces.  One lone smallish pine tree , a couple of bushes and lots and lots of grass.  I’m still debating on how to go about landscaping this place.  The golf course, hole number 7 to be exact is just out my back door.  And the so called city green belt runs along my property line.  Sounds nice, huh?  It is, but the deer are crazy about it.  I’ve come home late in the evening and counted at least 15 deer grazing in my yard.  Picture postcard perfect, but a real pain when it comes to all the deer poop.  Not to mention the issues I’m going to have trying to plant flowers and a garden.  I may be able to fence part of it, but I don’t know.  I’m trying to watch my budget and fencing would take quite a chunk out of it.  Honestly, we have so many deer here that you can’t drive or walk a block without seeing at least one grazing in someone’s yard.  I love animals and I think the deer are beautiful, but there’s just too many to deal with.  I’m looking out the window right now and yes, the deer are out there.  If anyone knows of a way to discourage them camping in your yard please let me know.  I’m ready for spring  just not ready for the deer.

IT’S A BUTT TRICK NIGHT

Last night I played darts. I’m a sub for a friends team at a local sports bar. Every couple of weeks I get a call to fill in for someone. What do I know about darts? Absolutely nothing. I’m bad. Really. While the rest of the team is yelling, “go for a triple 3″ I’m practically closing my eyes and praying I hit the board…anywhere on the board. I had no idea people took this game so seriously. Some of them spend hours practicing and actually follow tournaments across the state.

When I was first asked to play I watched a couple of teams compete before I gave them my answer. At first I said no. Hey, I didn’t want anyone yelling at me. And yes, these guys get depressed when they lose. But they talked me into it and so every other week night or so I’m off to dart league. Since playing darts I’ve added several new phrases to my vocabulary. Anybody care to define “butt trick?” Me either.

I don’t know about other small towns, but this dart competition is serious stuff here. And the five bars hosting the leagues (yes, five bars in this small town of 3,000 people…no make that seven bars) have standing room only on dart night. People that don’t play darts jam the bars just to watch the boisterous antics of some of the players. Most players are there for fun and an evening out, but you also have the die hard competitors that question every throw and end the evening yelling and arguing about stats and unfair throws. Tempers flare, games are forfeited and rescheduled. I have to admit it can be entertaining. I haven’t seen anyone go to blows yet, but I’m thinking it’s just a matter of time.

If Wishes Were Horses

Who knew that at this late in life I’d rekindle my love of horses? I certainly didn’t. Last summer a friend asked me to go riding with him. Not yet divorced and trying to wade through emotional and financial drama I begged off stating that I wasn’t ready to try anything new. He asked again in the fall…I had more excuses. Yes, I’ve ridden a horse. But it was a long time ago. When I was young we lived a few miles from what we called the “Pony Farm.” For a few dollars you could pick a horse and ride the trails for hours. Then when I lived in San Diego I used to ride in Cleveland National forest at a place similar to the Pony Farm. The horses were old, slow, plodding along the trails they were safe. Safe. That’s an important word. Safe didn’t mean much to me when I was young and dumb, but now, at my age, safe is aan important word in my vocabulary.

This summer I finally said yes and spent three days riding in our beautiful Gallatin mountains in Montana.

Horses are big animals. I had forgotten how big until I stood beside the horse I was to ride. Up until the time I was actually with the horses I looked forward to time in the mountains.  Looking up at my horse and trying to figure out how i was going to get my 5′ 2″ body up on the saddle I suddenly realized that I didn’t know crap about horses, that this is Big Sky country and I’m no cow girl. This could hurt. I could fall off. Get bucked off. Worse yet…I could cry. My friend, a really nice guy, smiled then offered me his knee as a bench. Up on my horse I must have looked confused. My feet were dangling, the stirrups a mile a way. It took awhile to fix things, but once my friend adjusted everything all the while muttering “should have brought a kids saddle,” I was ready to ride.

As soon as my horse started to move I was over come with doubt. Will I make a fool of myself? How far will we ride? Will I be sore and beg to stop? I’m happy to say we rode for miles and I stayed in the saddle the whole time. We saw deer, elk, fox, all sorts of small animals and a bear. It was wonderful! It was exhilarating. For three days we rode from six am till almost dark then shared drinks at the local watering hole. I was proud of myself. It was just what I needed to boost my self confidence. I returned home a new woman. Why? I don’t really know. It was an empowering three days. It was a romantic three days without intimacy. My friend is just that…my friend. I think he knew that I needed to get away. I think he knew that time with the horses, the mountains, communing with trees and surrounded by wildlife would give me the boost I needed to get on with my life.

Why Write a Personal Blog

I started blogging a couple of years ago.  I didn’t do it for fame.  I just needed an outlet for writing.  I used to write for newspapers and was lucky enough to have a few articles published in magazines.  That was when I had six kids at home along with a dog, two cats and numerous rabbits.  There was always something to write about.  I was a stay at home mom up to my ears in laundry and daily crisis.  I shared my life with others in my weekly columns and was always amazed that people actually enjoyed hearing about my life.  Then my kids grew up, I divorced and I stopped writing.  I remarried and let the writing part of my life slip away.  Strange as it sounds it was my second husband (ouch) that nagged me to start writing again.  That’s when blogging came into my life. 

I started with the Google blogs and kept it up for awhile.  Actually I wrote quite a bit and it felt good knowing that any talent I used to have ,although a bit rusty, was still there.  I stopped when I went through a second divorce (ouch ouch).  An emotional mess with the knowledge that the man I considered my most trusted best friend in the world had betrayed me  I deleted my blog and again let my passion to write slip away.  Last year my oldest son was the one to encourage me to write.  At this point I’ve only allowed a few to read my fractured thoughts.  Writing a personal blog is sometimes too personal.  When I started this blog I was hesitant to share my life.  It’s scarey to pour your thoughts and heart out on paper all the while wondering what others will think.  My first entry took me weeks to write.  I wrote and deleted a dozen times.  I’d write an entry then before I posted it read it and cringe at the thought of sharing it with family, friends, the world.  I don’t remember exactly when I decided that  I didn’t care about what others would think.  I was tired of worrying about other people.  Now, when I write, it’s an extremely liberating feeling…powerful.  Do I care who reads it?  Yes and no.  There are some things I would prefer my children not know…that I’m human?  Made mistakes?  But for the most part I write for me.  It makes me feel good.  True,  I’m still a bit timid about sharing some things, but I’m getting braver.  Some friends have been blogging and have shared their sites with me.  I love reading their blogs!  I laugh and cry with them.  I’m seeing the inside of their lives not just the outside and I feel closer to them.  True, blogging is not for everyone.  It’s a tough choice to air your crazy thoughts and dirty laundry with friends let alone complete strangers.  It’s like finding someones personal diary and hiding away to read their most intimate thoughts.  I’m thankful that people are willing to share and soon I’ll do the same…

Lucky Me

Wow! Talk about lucky. I’ve just hit 999,999th Dell free lap top site for about the 15th time. Could I be any luckier? Maybe I should be buying lottery tickets every day and hitting all the local gambling casinos. Too bad I never learned to play cards. I could be cleaning up at all the nightly poker games around town. I read my monthly horoscope and yep, it says I’m on a winning streak. I do feel lucky. Oh, not enough to take all my money and bet it on games of chance, but I’m feeling lucky in life. Funny how quickly your life can turn around. Six months ago I wouldn’t have bet a plug nickel on my luck. I felt like my life as I knew it had fallen apart…it did. I wanted to run and hide. The term clinically depressed kept popping into my head yet I wasn’t brave enough to seek professional help. What did I do? Absolutely nothing. I waited it out and tried to focus on all the good things still in my life and day by day my thoughts began to change. I know that isn’t the answer for everyone, but it was for me. I’ve always been hard on myself. Understanding of others faults, but too critical of my own short comings made it exceptionally hard when my world took a nose dive. I’ve been thinking a lot about depression and people that are depressed. I don’t view it as a weakness, but more as an illness. And it’s amazing how many of my friends are on antidepressants. Maybe they shared that information with me because they recognized some of my behavior as depression. What kept me from seeking any kind of medical help? Pride. That thing in side me that’s kept me plugging along and hating any signs of weakness that tries to surface. Yes, I’m ok now and no, I’m not on any kind of medication. My method of dealing with my problems worked for me, but I know that’s not the case for everyone. I guess what I’m trying to say is that for some depression is more then of a state of mind. It really is an illness and if you need help get it. I am lucky that it was just a state of mind for me. I’m lucky that my depression just took time to work things out. I’m lucky that my family and friends were there for me. I am just a very lucky person.

Snakes in the Garden

I killed my first snake last week. I didn’t mean to. I was mowing under the peonies in the front yard and when I pulled the mower back the snake came with it. It was a bull snake and I had crushed half of him. He was writhing in pain and I did what all emotional women tend to do…I cried. Yes, I was a grown woman standing in the front yard crying. I’m not afraid of snakes. I grew up where there weren’t any poisonous snakes so handling garter snakes was almost a daily occurance in the summer time. Anyway, I knew he wouldn’t live and I couldn’t make myself finish him off so I went looking for my neighbor who was out cutting his grass. I think I spooked him when I showed up in his back yard, grass stained, dishelved hair and crying. I’m sure he thought someone was after me. Anyway, he followed me to the snake and while I averted my eyes he brought the shovel down and put the poor creature out of his misery. He’s a good guy. Didn’t say a word about my tears. He just put the snake in the garbage and told me let him know if I needed anything else.

I have bull snakes and garter snakes in my yard. I don’t mind. They keep away the mice and it’s entertaining to hear squeals from guests and kids when they suddenly see one slithering through the strawberries. I even found a snake skin one had shed in my rock garden. Cool. I have it hanging on a vine and my grandkids think that grandma is pretty special to take on the critters.

Should I or Shouldn’t I…Retire?

I need money and I need it now, not years down the road. Yes, I know the economy is scary and it sounds foolish for me to consider giving up my job, but short of hooking up with some guy to take care of me I think retiring is the best I can do. I’m old enough to get social security and if I quit the job I have now I can take my money in a lump sum and be debt free except for my house. My other retirement from my coal mine job will kick in at 65. Meantime I can finish the projects my ex and I started on the house without taking out a loan or refinance and sell it. I recently had realtors tell me it would be easy to sell for double what we paid for it. Then I could decide where I want to live and find something smaller and pay cash for it. Maybe it sounds like I’m dreaming, but there are some smaller homes in small towns that I could be comfortable with. The main thing for me right now is to not have to worry about money. I’m tired of worrying about things. Am I afraid to take my one retirement money in a lump sum? Not really. If I continue working for several more years I just won’t make that much more a month and I’ll still have bills. Besides if I quit, take the money, draw social security I can work part time and supliment my income if I think I have to. Am I talking in circles?

Another thing. My hearts not in my job anymore and certainly not in this house. I’m ready for change. Yes, I know you’re thinking I’m not thinking clearly, that I’m too emotional. Not really. I actually feel optimistic about the future and my health is good. That’s another thing. My health. I don’t want to be working at a job I’m not into any more, worrying about bills and this big house and then have my health go bad. True, if I quit my job right now I can draw SS, but I’m not eligible for health care till I’m 65. That worried me until I realized that as a veteran I can receive health care from the VA. Hey, I even have a place to be buried whenever it comes to that. See, I’m thinking straight.

Decisions, decisions. I’m going to sleep on this and hopefully wake up with an answer.

Did I Miss Menopause?

I think I missed menopause. Seriously, no hot flashes, night sweats, eating binges, loss of sex drive or hitting the bottle after everyone went to bed. Ok, there may have been some moodiness, but honestly it just blew right by me. With all the hoopla and dread concerning menopause I was ready to take it head on, but it never reared it’s ugly face.  And if it did I was too busy to notice. I expected something equal to PMS only instead of once a month magazine articles had me preparing for years of all of the above.

My high school boyfriends would be the first to tell you that I did not do PMS well. In the 60′s if you went steady (our name for what they now call going out) you wore his high school ring with different angora yarn wrapped around it to fit your finger. The yarn came in  different colors and we changed it daily to match our outfits. Anyway, once a month I sent the ring sailing towards a cowering, bewildered boy friend while yelling “I want to break up.” Why? I didn’t know. It just seemed like the thing to do at the moment then days later I was wearing his ring again.

I don’t believe we had a name for PMS then, but early on I suspected that my menstral cycle had something to do with it. The week before my period I was moody, bloated, emotional, hungry and easily irrated. The week after I was little miss sunshine.

The first few years of marriage to my children’s father I got so bad my husband started marking days on the calendar to prepare himself for the emotional onslaught. He did that for a year or so until I caught on and threatened his life. Yes, it was PMS week and might have even been a full moon. If we were going to argue it was always during that week then marital bliss for the rest of the month. Come to think of it maybe that was why he was so happy, supportive and content when I was pregnant or nursing a baby. With six kids all a year  and a half apart I was was minus PMS for over ten years. And all along I’ve been thinking the pregnancies were all about the Morman belief that God wants us to “multiply and replenish the earth”. I guess I’m a slow learner. I learn something new everyday.