29. The Box

Four months and four days ago, on November 25th, my facebook status read "Today I received five boxes of my life on a UPS truck".

I remember the day like it was yesterday.  It was an icy, foggy Spokane morning.  I had been expecting a package from Rob containing my winter coat and some other things. The doorbell rang and I opened the door to the UPS man.  He said simply hi, packages for Dyer and I signed the signature scanner.

I shivered in the cold while he unloaded five large boxes with a handcart.  What the hell...?? I thought.  "They're very heavy" he warned, and he set them on the asphalt driveway next to the garage door.  When he left I stood there freezing and contemplated the stack of boxes as tall as me.   A sadder moment has never existed I thought wearily.  I pictured him searching our home for any and all items of mine he could rid himself of, box up and ship to me. Suddenly one box caught my attention, and I was struck by a sickening realization that nearly dropped me right to my knees.

Stacked second from the bottom was a u-haul box marked by sharpie with the words fragile and kitchen staples in my own hand.   It was the very box I had so lovingly packed with kitchen items we would use at our extended stay hotel after our move from Utah to Olympia.  I had carefully chosen which spices and seasonings, utensils, and pantry goods we would use at our home-away-from-home, and packed them into a box.  The rest of the kitchen--and house--would be left for the moving company after we purchased a home in Olympia.

I found it sickening --and disturbing-- that Rob found and used the very same box to ship my belongings after kicking me out of our Olympia home; my heart broke while I stared at the words I had so excitingly written eighteen months earlier.



Today the box sits out in mom and dad's driveway.  Twice I've started to destroy the thing but I can't seem to do it.  I have no idea why but I just cannot get rid of it.  Not yet.  Don't know what I'm waiting for, when I do this will be the first place to which I turn.

28. Just Like the Dream. Only Different.

Yesterday I had a temper tantrum. Kim and I were driving here and there, errands, coffee, spending, and three or four things brought up memories, which of course brought me down. When the mere discussion of cappuccino took hold ::Shoreline, our coffee hut on the corner, velvet couches and free copies of the Seattle Times, baristas with nose rings who made the most amazing foam art in every cup:: I broke down. Only this time I didn't break down into a withered little flower, I broke down into...Rob. A steering-wheel hitting, oath-flying, mad-as-hell grown up having a full on, no holes barred temper tantrum.

My tirade was several minutes long, and when it was over we were somehow parked, engine and lights off, parking brake engaged, and keys in hand, in front of Joanne Fabrics. (How the hell did we get here...?) When it ended Kim spoke, and her words were encouraging, strengthening, and congratulatory! She said Mom, listen to you! You are pissed! You finally sound like the strong, vital woman you were created to be. Listen to all this worth coming out!

It was the first time Kim witnessed in me a step toward healing... a real step, not some namby pamby feel-good step from a self help book. She told me she LOVED this; my vitriol spoke healthy mommy to her. This was new, and it was very good.

It must have made an impression on me: last night I had a dream. It took place, of course, at the ocean. This time, however,there were no teary goodbyes; some dream vacation was not coming to an end. It was actually the last day I ever saw my husband: with his family at the birthday party, only this time we were at the beach. After saying pleasant goodbyes, removing a checkbook from the oven and trying to see if I could cast a giant fishing rod into the surf even though nobody else had ever fished there (I could, and I did catch a fish), Rob and I headed home.

Somewhere down the road real time history repeated itself: I said or did something wrong, Rob got mad and launched into a perfect replica of the assault that sent me on THE WALK. This time however, the ending was different. Kimi was in the truck with us. The harvested, dead apple orchards along the road at the original incident were now in full bloom. And I was empowered. I let loose on my husband, the man who emotionally bruised me for five years, with everything I had; I was a double barreled shotgun and I held not one round back. My daughter and the blooming apple orchards backed me up with their very presence.

Kim spent the night last night. Right now she's in the living room on her laptop; she just brought me a fantastic Kimi smoothie. It's springtime. I'm blogging. It's going to be a great day.

27. I was Someone Important?

This morning I sat chatting with mom and dad. Somehow we got onto the subject of when I was a baby, and mom told me that I was a 'pretty baby' and that people used to come up and admire her 'beautiful baby'. I was astonished. I've seen my baby pictures and, frankly, have never been impressed. Adalie... now that's a beautiful baby. I was just... normal. Short brown hair. Brown eyes. Small overbite. But, according to mom, I turned heads.

She told me that, in fact, she would take me into the hospital where I was born and the nurses would line up to hold me and take me around the place. "You were not just cute, but you were Dr. Curran's granddaughter, and to be seen holding you was huge. Dr. Curran, my grandfather, wasn't just a practicing physician at Arcade Hospital, he was one of the founding physicians of the hospital; the man had a PHONE in his car!

So. The feeling that overcame me after mom shared this news with me was peace. I looked at her and, with all the sincerity I could put forth said: I was someone important? Mom and dad were silent. I gazed at the floor, smiling; I simply couldn't believe this. Me? Someone to be seen with? Holy Moly!! It was a brand new identity for me; I felt like another person, someone not myself. I've always been the leaner; the reacher: always reaching to be with the important person. I'll be spending some time now thinking about how to deal with; how to index this revelation about myself. I think I'm going to like it.

26. Apple Trees and Wind Chimes

Apple Blossoms and Wind Chimes   
I saw a shrink today: memories and flashbacks are killing me dead. He pressed for specific instances: sights, sounds, smells, that bring on these debilitating flashbacks. He wanted specifics so I dug deep and brought them out: Last spring, a morning spent filming and photographing the apple blossoms on our beautiful tree next to the back porch. It's a warm spring day. The dogs are stretched out soaking up the sun, birds are singing, and the apple blossoms are dancing in a light, fresh breeze. Our acre of lawn has been freshly mown in neat diagonal strips--I cut it myself just the day before--and the scent of cut grass has mingled with baby honeysuckle growing on the porch. It's delightfully peaceful; I am in heaven.

Today the window from my room faces a concrete driveway, right next to another concrete driveway. Squeezed between the two is a small apple tree that my mom planted a few years ago. Last month she had the thing pruned and the branches tied in a bundle. Alas, two days ago the decapitated blooms stubbornly opened up in their dead pile. Apple blossoms. Back yard. Sunny lawn. Home. The little blooms flashed the sweet, tender, and dreadfully cruel picture of my day filming... and another cold, dark wave crashed down yet again. I marched out and stuffed the offending branches into a refuse can where they could no longer taunt my war-torn brain. Closed the lid tight on the little blossoms; God's beauty, refusing to die, showing His faithfulness, stuffed in a trash can. I did that.

********
It is Saturday in April. We've just picked up my brand new engagement ring, and now are driving up to the San Juan Islands for the day. Following a walk around Friday Harbor we sit down to lunch in a delightful cafe; Jack Johnson is singing in the background. We're talking, laughing, holding hands. We visit some gift shops, and Rob surprises me with a beautiful wind chime. This gift I will cherish forever, and though I don't know it at the time, the wind chime will hang from the front porch of my next five homes.

Today I hear wind chimes singing in the wind outside my bedroom window. Their music is beautiful; as much as I like wind chimes I should be enthralled with them. Instead, their song makes me sad, puts me in a funk; takes me back to the day with Rob at Friday Harbor. Another wave crashes down. So much sadness.

**********

With my sadness this time, however, comes a delightful treat: With the doc's gentle counsel I've come to realize that my bouts of blues, depression, memories, sadness, homesickness, waves--seem to be focused on things surrounding Rob, rather than on Rob himself! I felt truly empowered by this revelation. Another step towards success in overcoming this horrendous chapter in my life. Freedom is not too far off.

25. Bad Dreams Do Come True...

Friday Sissy had given me the entire day off for some much-needed R & R. Kimi and I went up to Silver Star mountain in eastern Clark County. We had a fabulous time together, saw some spectacular scenery and took photos that are quite frameable. It was a memorable day trip, one that I'll always remember. We look forward to more trips, and later this spring, some day hikes. Our day ended with dinner at an old favorite pizza place from her childhood and a sleepover at her place. It was a blast!

Unfortunately, when I went to bed I was visited by an old acquaintance: depression. I have no idea how it popped up, or from where it came, but as I was lying in bed listening to distant traffic sounds I suddenly found myself intensely missing Rob. I even said out loud to the darkness 'I love you so much, babe' just to remember what it sounded like. The night was very, very long; I listened to the clock downstairs strike two, then three, then four a.m. before finally drifting off to sleep.

I'm no psychologist, but something in my pea brain tells me this event is somehow related to the fact that the delightful day with my daughter was just hours from being over ::warm ocean beach:: and that when the sun rose I would be leaving her ::trip's over...time to go back:: and returning to work. Saying goodbye to my mini vacation; my precious time with my best friend in the whole world ::saying goodbye, going back, say goodbye, tracy, don't cry now::

Not surprisingly, later that afternoon I had another bout of long-buried memories, this time very detailed visions of the warm, sunny day Rob and I drove around Ogden shopping for new bathroom appliances: ceramic sinks, tile, brushed antique fixtures, followed by cheeseburgers at our favorite burger joint...

Where did this come from? I thought this nonsense was over??!? I suppose a strongly worded letter to God is in order! Seriously, maybe I should attribute it to all the craziness at home right now as well as the fact that my pharmaceutical strategy is being tweaked: tapering off Prozac and starting something new called Lamictral. Honestly, I suppose I'd gladly exchange setbacks like this for final healing!

As far as the outlook for my future, I'm still in a holding pattern as to what to do with my life! Two weeks ago I met a delightful Medical Assistant named Tracy and she seriously talked me into going to MA school; said I would not regret it one bit. After talking with her I made the decision that that was exactly what I would do. Go to MA school: it's one year plus a few classes this spring and summer. I remained positive about my decision until two days ago, when I had a no-holes-barred conversation with Rob about money, health insurance, and filing divorce papers. It was difficult and painful conversation, but very necessary. He said that considering my family circumstances, he'll continue to give me a support check every week for three more months, then he will stop. Legally he doesn't have to give me any support at all; our prenuptial agreement protects him from that. He has offered to give me this money. It is generous of him and has been much, much appreciated.

We decided when the support ends in three months he will have to pay me the money he owes me in full, which is mostly repayment of my portion of the down payment on our home in Olympia. (This is the money I've been planning to live on while attending school). We further agreed that we have no reason to rush filing our divorce papers for the simple reason that while we're married he can keep me on his health insurance plan. It doesn't cost him anything to do this, and I've made it clear to him that without insurance I'll be in deep trouble, with my joint problems.

After our conversation however, I began to think about whether it's detrimental to my emotional healing to stay legally married to Rob. This is a man who left me on the side of a highway four months ago, never to see me again. The same man who screens my phone calls, refusing to talk to me. (This last conversation happened only because I called him from my aunt's phone with a California number.) The same man who refused to read the biblically principled letter I carefully and prayerfully composed, apologizing for my role in the demise of our marriage and asking for forgiveness.

Now I'm going back and forth on whether to accept staying legally married to a man who not only doesn't love me, but apparently doesn't even like me, to stay insured; or to give up my dream of going to school and taking a job with medical benefits, and putting an end to this miserable chapter of my life. There will be more contemplating, considering, and praying on this important decision, but time is running short. Spring classes begin in three weeks.

24. So Much More than Me

"What do you see, on the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea, a pale moon rises
Your ship has come to carry you home..."
~Annie Lennox

What a crazy time. Dad has constant needs that demand near full-time care, and my darling mom, his care-giver, is down herself. She had major surgery on February 18th, and seven days later, on the day she was due to be discharged from the hospital she developed severe complications and was rushed into more surgery. She finally did come home March 1st, and her dear sister flew up help with the transition and initial care she will require. On top of that, daughter Kimi had painful rotator cuff surgery and is moderately disabled herself, depending on me alone to drive her everywhere. We're hoping she'll be able to start driving a car this weekend.

This morning Aunt Kathleen left to go back home to Sacramento and I have to say, things are sure different here at the house. There is no doubt in my mind that God has placed me here for two purposes: one, to take care of my folks and two, to focus my ongoing emotional pain and anguish on something more positive. Taking care of two adults with full time medical needs is more than a full time job, and it keeps my mind too busy to miss my old life in Olympia.

Today the sun was out, the weather was warm, and the cherry trees are in full peak bloom. It was a beautiful day; thank You, Creator! Thank You also, for the blessing of two wonderful sisters: Dad's sister Janet, to whom we were able to send him during Mom's initial surgery, and Mom's sister Kathleen, aka Sissy, who dropped everything when I called and asked her to fly up and help out. I love you gals!