I still get sad sometimes, and that's okay.

Photo attribution here.

I spent a lot of my childhood riding in the back seat of a car, watching the road--quietly contemplative. Speeding along the freeway I would watch as the pavement holding us would silently split into two lanes--one with a brand new destination. We'd cruise along, parallel with the new road. Two that had been made from one. I'd watch as the new road rose or sank, then took its own turn and silently peeled away from us and disappeared from my view. I'd wonder then for a moment where that road went and how it could disappear, so smooth and silent. When I think about The Mr. now, I think about the roads. One road split into two, silently going their own ways.

When I first got back into classes here in Hawaii I was completely immersed in the healing that comes with creativity. Particularly there was a drawing class that took all the time, attention and focus I could afford it. I loved it. My professor was excellent in pointing out where I was going wrong and teaching me how to fix it. I marveled at the return I got on my artistic investment over those few short months.

In this class an interesting thing would sometimes happen. I'd be so lost in trying to capture the core shadow on the sphere I was drawing that I probably morphed into a full on mouth breather and didn't even know it. The kind of concentration it takes when you are first learning this stuff is nigh unto Jedi Master in training concentration. I'd be full on in the throws of mastering the force of my charcoal pencil when all of a sudden, a still frame from my former life would flash through the feature film of Frowfrow Goes Back to College and Loves It. It was such an unexpected juxtaposition that the first time it happened it almost knocked me over--it was so dizzyingly disorienting.

When I take stock of my life, the things I want to be and the things I've accomplished, the phrase, "divorced" inevitably filters through. Every time it does my brain does a double take. No, I'm not divorced. I'm not the type. I wouldn't let that happen to me. I'm not stupid enough to marry someone I would have to divorce. I wouldn't break that promise to God.

And yet, I did.

I am.

I can't take it back or unmake the decisions that brought me to and through that. I can't know better in time to not make those mistakes. I know God doesn't hold it against me, but I still can't help feeling like I can't ever get my slate completely clean.

I'm divorced.

In my memory bank there's ring, a proposal, a wedding day and a wedding night. There's a family ward I attended and an apartment I decorated. There are plans I tried to make and promises broken. There's the first times and the last times, the endless efforts of making it work, the cruel things that can never be undone and the way it unrelentingly would not renege until my soul was lying motionless on the floor, bereft of any ideas for what I could try next. There's a foundation--laid and abandoned.

I'm divorced.

And now I'm in my second chance at life, and it's a nearly surreal life at that. I put an ocean between myself and anything I'd ever known. I indulge every creative impulse that flits through my mind. I spent an hour today lying on a private, aqua beach reading for pleasure. I sleep in on Sunday, go out on weekends, skinny dip in January and have nothing I can logically complain about in this freshly constructed world I've built for myself. But there is always this part of me that is somberly saying, No, you don't understand. You don't know what it was like. 

I'm divorced.

I was married. I took a full on face dive leap of faith into the tea cup of a quick marriage. I make my conscious efforts to move ahead, to live in the present, to embrace the now, to learn from my mistakes and to cultivate gratitude, forgiveness and love--but I will never not be divorced.

That makes me sad.

So please, when you meet someone who has been through it, withhold judgement for a moment or two. Give the person space to be who they are--now. Let the divorced people you meet know that it's okay to be okay, that they are not categorically dismissed because of life experiences, and that life is full of tough choices. None of us get out unscathed. There's a unity to be had in sharing our stories, regardless of the source of the scar.

The voice inside that never lies, and is never wrong.

Photo attribution here. 

Do you remember a few entries back where I illuminated the benefits of breaking all contact with ones ex if at all possible? And then a couple entries later The Mr. called me just to see how I was doing? It was almost like God was testing my ability to walk the walk of all the talk I do. Well, my time with Captain Amazing has reached its end. We are broken up once and for all, and in grand summation of the whole situation, I would say that I'm pretty sure this, like the phone call, was one big test/chance to grow from God to me--like a Christmas present. A painful, excruciating, disorienting, soul stretching Christmas present from God to me. Refresher:

On August 16, 2013 I wrote the following:

There's a voice inside me that never lies and is never wrong. When I met The Mr. that voice said, "No thank you." But I kissed him anyway--a lot. When he proposed that voice said, "You do not know this man. How can you marry someone you don't know if you can trust?" But I told the voice to be quiet or we'd never find love. When The Mr. and I would sit in a room together, 15 months into our mistake that voice would say, "He's not here in the room with you. He's already gone." I would tell the voice, "No. He's the one who loves me."

I met Captain Amazing the day before classes began, the beginning of September. The voice kicked in about a week into our time together. I was waiting for him to stop by to pick me up for what I knew would be a very romantic evening on a Hawaiian moonlit beach. I was sitting in the courtyard of my dorm, chatting with him on the phone, arranging the final details of where to meet and when. The voice said, "Don't you go with him. Stay home. I mean it," but having been completely alone for the last 10 months and desperate (key word there) for some kind of something to take my mind off my past, infatuated with the exoticness of the potential of dating a tall, handsome African man, and with a soul so parched for affection the substance with which it would be quenched made little difference to me, I went anyway. I did not listen to the voice.

The next morning I awoke with memories of what I can only, in all honesty, confess to be among the most romantic nights of my life, I went outside to the Hawaiian sun and started reading my scriptures in preparation for church. I picked up my patriarchal blessing with a secret hope that maybe this gentleman could put an end to the eternally daunting task that is once more before me of dating and being single. Again, the voice was clear--this time almost fierce. "Let me be perfectly clear. Captain Amazing is not the one for you." But desperation dies hard.

I spent the next three months trying every angle I could think of to convince myself that this upset stomach was a result of my scrambled egg divorce brain. I was being overly cautious, defensive, unwilling to relax and neurotic. I told myself these things again and again and again. Why? Because I hate being alone. I hate being alone, and Captain Amazing was cute, romantic, funny, scholarly, devoted, a convert, a psychology major, an AP in his mission, a temple worker, a Sunday School President, was the CEO of a nonprofit for crying out loud, and a damn good kisser. But the voice was right all along. He is not the one for me. The voice inside me never lies and is never wrong.

After at least four attempts at breaking up the voice adopted subversive tactics, embedding herself into a muscle on the left side of my neck 'till it began to spasm. I'd gotten to a place where my brain was 68% devoted to anticipating and meeting his needs, which were often cryptic and unmeetable. I was eating too much, sleeping too little, not making time for myself and, by the end, incapable of holding a fully upright posture. Every day I wondered what I could do to make it better. I was apologetic, open, eternally available and losing myself bit by bit by bit...again, till the moment came where I'd had enough.

Breaking it off for good was hard because I, like my father, am intensely uncomfortable inconveniencing anyone. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but once things got bad enough that I no longer could see the situation for anything other than what it was, I couldn't go back anymore. He was determined not to end it, and I had to become even more firm. It wasn't pretty, but it was the right thing to do, and there is a peace in that.

Lessons to extract from this experience? Red flags:

1. If the person you are with makes you feel less like yourself they don't love you for who you are.
2. If you feel like your partner can't live without your help. Walk away from projects, no excuses, no exceptions.
3. If you cannot tell what you want, how you feel or what you think in the presence of another, you are having enmeshment issues and the relationship is not a healthy one.
4. If the person you are dating makes you feel bad on a regular basis -- bad about yourself, bad about your values, bad about your body, your taste in movies, your job, your major, you passions, your friends, anything really-- no good.
5. If your relationship with God suffers because of your devotion to your partner, run.
6. If you find yourself saying, "Things will get better when..." They won't. People have patterns. They can be broken, but usually are not.
7. If fighting with the person is overly dramatic, childish, or immature leave them in the past. You both have some growing up to do.
8. If the relationship feels unbalanced--like one of you is investing significantly more time, attention, effort and love into the relationship, it will not get better. It will get worse.
9. If you find yourself continually lowering your expectations, week after week after week. Some compromise is necessary, but we've all got to draw the line somewhere before we become shadows of ourselves and what we once were and wanted.
10. Just because a person looks amazing on paper, it doesn't mean you have the right to stifle the voice inside. I'm telling you, guys. She never lies and is never wrong.

The Deal Has Been Unsealed - Temple Sealing Cancelation

Photo Attribution here. 

Today we're going to talk about something that nobody likes to talk about: temple sealing cancellation.

I mentioned a couple posts back that The Mr. has gotten engaged. I received a phone call from his bishop asking me to write a letter addressed to the First Presidency of the church explaining how I felt about the idea of him getting remarried in the temple. The letter went something (a lot more formal than, but in essence) like this:

Dear awesome leaders of the church I love,

I'm supportive of The Mr. taking a second chance on love. While the speed with which he is pursuing marriage is concerning to me personally, I recognize that this is no longer any of my affair. I sincerely wish he and his fiancé happiness in their new life together. The prospect of being in what essentially amounts to a polygamous sealing with my ex-husband and his new wife against my will, however, is a concept that makes me more uncomfortable than I have words to express. May I please have a sealing cancellation? Thanks.

Love,

Frowfrow

I wasn't really sure why I asked them for a cancellation in that letter... I mean, it's not as if I expected them to write me back saying, "Sure thing, doll. Would you like fries with that?" But The Mr.'s bishop asked for my feelings on the matter and feelings he received.

I was then instructed that the proper channel is to go through my bishop here to start the process of officially requesting a cancellation, which I immediately did. He's a very nice guy, my bishop. He's got that simple, clear cut, straight forward thinking I admire so much. I explained my situation to him and he agreed. Why stay sealed with someone who you aren't married to anymore? Being a singles ward bishop and somewhat unfamiliar with procedure he went to the Stake President to ask what to do next and came back a couple weeks later to let me know that the Stake President had put the kibosh on the whole effort, saying, "That's not what we do."

There seems to be an idea floating around out there that there are blessings afforded a woman for staying sealed to a man in the temple, regardless of the state of their marriage (or non-marriage) and who did what to whom in the divorce. This has always struck me as absurdly illogical. The blessing I wanted was to have any and all ties with that life cut, quick like a band aid, the sooner the better. Being free from any other process I would have to go through to distance myself from him at a later date, knowing I am in absolutely no way connected to him and his damaging influence on my life, that's a blessing I understand. That's something I can sink my teeth into. That was what I wanted, and last week, aforementioned kiboshing of the Stake President notwithstanding, that's what I got. It was a letter in the mail. Unexpected. Maybe that's why it affected me so.

Dear Frowfrow,

The Mr. contacted us asking for a cancellation. Would you like fries with that?

Love,

Tommy Monson

Captain Amazing sat across from me, dumbfounded at why I was crying, saying, "But I thought you wanted this...? Why are you upset?"And the truth is, I was a little dumbfounded too. I did want it. I was grateful for it. I was relieved and happy and free and... alone and devastated and sad all over again.

It was supposed to be permanent. It was supposed to be serious. It was supposed to work out alright in the end, but this is the end...again. Yet another element of ending, and it's not alright, not my marriage to the Mr. And it never will be alright.

Today I'm grateful. At least in my mind I'm grateful. Logically grateful. Mind made up to be grateful. Feet set on a grateful path. I do not miss being married to The Mr. That time was so unexplainably painful. However, I do miss the person I thought he was and the husband I thought he would become. I miss our home in Long Beach. I miss being a wife and not having to sleep alone and knowing I would never have to date again and having a permanent buddy all the time. Most of all I think I miss the concept that something in life could ever be completely stable, safe, secure. I miss the feeling that I could be a part of a functional family, and that something and someone in life could be trusted.

The Best Worst Day of My Life

Somewhere in the early days when all I could think to myself was, "When will this feel less like a semi just hit my life?" I was consulting the all powerful Google and found this admittedly arbitrary formula. Recovery time from a divorce averages about one half the length of the marriage. 10 years marriage = 5 years recovery and so on, so I planted the seed in the back of my mind that I would give myself the first full year to focus almost entirely on healing myself up, and I have.

This is the year I will always remember as the year I slept just as much as my body asked me to, which sometimes meant going straight to bed at 6pm and waking up 14 hours later. I ate any and every thing I wanted and I let myself talk about my experience endlessly, processing it out of me by virtue of sheer repetition. I bought myself presents --nice dresses and red high heels, jewelry, and a guitar. I took myself on weekend trips, road trips, trips to the theater and movies and beach. I bought myself a reliable car and moved back to the home I'd left in a hope to appease The Mr. Then, I allowed my soul to let go of 9/10 of my earthly possessions to pursue my education (another luxury out of reach to married Frowfrow) in the two things I love most - art and teaching...in Hawaii, and when a beautiful African man said to me, in his adorable accent, "Come outside, I'm going to kiss you." I said, "Okay."

To some this year may seem overly indulgent or self centered, but it has been exactly what I needed to get my sea legs back.  I had to learn that I can take care of myself. I can meet my needs. There isn't a man alive that can fix the broken parts of me, and I can stop looking, because Jesus and I are enough. My poor little terrified, broken heart and soul have been quieted, soothed, cradled and nurtured back into functionality, and I must say, today, 365 days after the best worst day of my life, I am thankful for what's happened.

I was making up a whiteboard for the students at work the other day and came across these wise words from the mouth of Oprah. "True forgiveness is when you can say, 'Thank you for that experience'." I cannot say I am grateful for every aspect of what the past three years of my life have been like, but last night when I was talking to God about the whole thing, this is some of the list we were able to come up with:

I'm thankful that I learned so much about myself through this experience,  that I now have a much deeper understanding of the importance of my own needs, hopes, dreams and establishing boundaries. I'm thankful that I get another chance at life, and that being in an unhealthy marriage helped me to see more clearly the things that are most important to me in life. I'm thankful that I know how much I love being a wife and how much I love having a husband. I'm thankful that I was married -- that someone, at least at some point, loved me enough to ask me to be his wife and that I had the time I did in Long Beach as a newly wed. I loved that short season in my life so immensely.

I'm thankful that dating again has opened my eyes to the things I did to contribute to the problems in my marriage and that I have all the time I need to work through those issues and becomes a healthier individual. I'm thankful that The Mr. had the courage to put a final stop to everything, and that he has been very respectful of my request that he not contact me again. I'm thankful for the new world that has opened up to me with possibilities that were once completely off the table. I'm thankful for all the long hours those who love me have put in with me--helping me move, inviting me over, flying me out for a visit, taking me out for an adventure, sitting in with me for the night, all the talking, all the prayers, all the hope and all the love. I'm thankful for the incredibly cathartic, healing experience writing this blog has been for me, and ultimately, beyond any other blessing to come from this experience I'm thankful that I have new understanding of exactly what my Savior is willing to go through, just for me.

So thanks for being a part of this first year of recovery. Thanks for reaching out to help me know I am not so alone in this unexpected stage of my life, and thank you, thank you, thank you that the first year is finally over. : )

Skinny Love

Photo attribution here. 

Oh, hello there blogging world. I've missed you so. : ) Where was I? Ah, yes! Captain Amazing. It's been about two months that we've been dating now. Here's a time lapse recap of the roller coaster we've been on in the form of a short list:

-Intercultural romance and all it's glorious gaps in communication.
-My neurotic fear of being abandoned and the way it manifests in destructive ways, right before my very eyes as I'm watching, thinking, "Stop it, Frowfrow! Stop it! Stop it!"
-His views about how public my divorce should be and why which happen to conflict with my views about how public my divorce should be and why
-Learning to balance time together and time apart, how we act in public and what each other's pet peeves are
-The endless inquiry, almost from day one of our time together, "Are you two getting married?"
-The bliss of a first kiss
-The bliss of many, many more kisses after the first ; ) I did mention how very much I love kissing, yes?
-The hormonal deluge that ensues post many, many kisses, and the havoc it wreaks on the mind and body, plus the added bonus of negotiating how to handle that, having tasted the forbidden fruit in my marital days of yore
-The beautiful, powerful, healing blessing of being with someone who will hold my hand when I'm lonely, kiss me when I'm happy, make me laugh when I'm too serious or sad, listen when he's tired, talk when he's mad, and tell me I'm beautiful, just because

I'd be lying if I told you it's an easy experience. There are so many triggers, so much to wade through. The communication it takes to keep us going is fairly intense. I freak out and tell him we need to break up every couple weeks. Sometimes I tell him I just want to kiss him and punch him at the same time. Once or twice I've cried so hard I think he thought my eyeballs would pop out, but the man is kind, calm, stable and supportive. He's a tender mercy, straight from God to me via Africa, all with a backdrop of Hawaii.

And by the way, Hawaii is every bit as magical, beautiful and lovely as they say, and Art Education is my soul mate in the form of a major. My depression and anxiety are at a very healthy low, my stress is managed, my family is positive and supportive, and my boyfriend is hilarious, hardworking and handsome.  Also, I get to teach Gospel Doctrine every other Sunday, which makes my life complete.

There's not really much of a moral to the story this time, just a basic update. We're coming up on one full year out of divorce now, so the stories are likely to become a lot less epic or dramatic in terms of being directly related to divorce. It is kind of nice to see the way life is evening out emotionally, just like they all said it would. I'll keep posting here, hopefully about once a month. This would be a perfect time for some guest posts as well. How is life as a Devout yet Divorced treating you? What issues have you been facing? What issues would you like to have addressed in a post?

Life Goes On

Photo attribution here.

So, whoa.

Imagine a whirlwind, a tropical whirlwind that smells like plumeria and glows with never ending sunshine that heals everything that it touches. This magical whirlwind came to the San Diego airport, picked me up and lovingly set me down in the most heavenly, beautiful, perfect, healing place imaginable for me. It quickly rearranged everything in my life and then laid me down in a bed, in a dorm, on a campus in Hawaii. I now live half a mile from the ocean in a land where there is one main road that circumnavigates the entire island in a meandering, swooping motion along the beach, with a speed limit of 35mph. There is a breeze that constantly rustles the leaves of palm trees and I am serenaded by tropical birds everywhere I go. The student body is the most culturally diverse in the whole of the United States. My days are filled with art classes. My afternoons are spent working and studying--during which time, I am still in a tropical paradise. I make new friends and learn new things every day, and there's a gentleman we'll call Captain Amazing that I met the day before classes started. The first time he kissed me, there was a rainbow around the moon. Rainbow. Around. The moon. 

Life, my friends, is beautiful. 

Also, The Mr. is engaged. 

I suppose it's serendipitous (or perhaps a little more divinely orchestrated) that I should be in such a lovely place in my life when I found out this news. In fact, I was on a date with Captain Amazing who happens to be a Bio Psychology major and an advocate for the power of training the mind not to focus on things that will only hurt you. "That's so crazy! It's okay though. You'll be fine." Was all I got from him. 

When I balked at that and said, "Don't you think this is a big deal? I mean, it's totally nuts!"

He said, " I don't want you to be hurt. Thinking about it will only hurt you. Let's talk about tonight." 

And that was that. 

So, a brief recap of lessons learned from my six week hiatus from this blog:

1. Don't ever give up the search for your happy place. There is balance and beauty in the world that is yours for the cultivating. 

2. Sometimes when you think it's really, really, really important to wait one full year after your divorce to date anyone a handsome philanthropist comes along and changes your mind, and that's okay. 

3. There is no telling what your ex will do, and some of it will likely piss you off or make you crazy, there's nothing we can do about that. We most certainly can, however, choose how we respond. Choosing to cultivate healthy thought patterns and avoid rumination is a good choice. 

Upcoming posts will undoubtedly cover the blissful, terrifying madness that is trying to find the balance between protecting oneself and allowing oneself to be loved post traumatizing divorce, and more details about dealing with an ex getting remarried in all its glory. 

For today, happy sabbath, and aloha. 

Part Three

I know I've written before about the importance of breaking all contact with an ex if at all possible, but I have an update for you on this topic. About a month ago things with The Mr. were in a place where we weren't talking, really just because there wasn't anything left to say. All the finances are sorted, possessions divided, words spoken, papers signed. But when you have been in such an intimate place with someone closing the door completely somehow seems caustic-- even while rationally acknowledging the trauma leaving the door even slightly ajar brings.

I was driving--windows down, sun shining, so I didn't hear the phone ring the first or second time. When I checked the message it was something I would have swallowed as sweet in days gone by. The Mr. wanted to know how I was doing. He wanted to know if I was happy.

There's a voice inside me that never lies and is never wrong. When I met The Mr. that voice said, "No thank you." But I kissed him anyway--a lot. When he proposed that voice said, "You do not know this man. How can you marry someone you don't know if you can trust?" But I told the voice to be quiet or we'd never find love. When The Mr. and I would sit in a room together, 15 months into our mistake that voice would say, "He's not here in the room with you. He's already gone." I would tell the voice, "No. He's the one who loves me."

So when I heard The Mr.'s voicemail I stopped for a moment and asked the voice what she thought. Two days later she replied in the form of a text message I sent The Mr.

I got your message. Thank you for your concern. How I'm doing is information I no longer feel comfortable sharing with you. I know you feel guilty for things from our past, but that's between you and God now. I wish you the best of luck in sorting it out and sincerely hope you find peace. Please do not contact me again. 

It wasn't easy to send, but it was easier than all that work it took to smother out the voice for those two years. My mama says that you don't have room for good things in your life when you won't let go of the bad ones. Mental energy is finite, after all. Since I calmly but firmly closed the door to all that pain, beautiful things have started happening. Or perhaps the more likely truth is that beautiful things were happening all along, but in closing the door I finally was able to look up.

My life is in the process of changing in big ways this week, not the least of which is where I reside. I am moving... again. But this isn't one of those little hopping around moves I've done every six months up until now. This is a mega leap of faith move from my seemingly eternally cyclical existence betwixt a few west coast states-- to a distant tropical island. 

I've never been to Hawaii. I've never rented a car or bought a one way ticket without any idea when I'll be coming back or really any desire to find out. In nine days I start part three of my Three Part Plan to Get on With Life, and I just want to say, it's coming together shockingly well. 

I bring this up, not to rub it in your face that I'm finally getting healthy when you likely have come to this blog in a state of profound grief or concern. I bring this up because I remember vividly the days that I was incapable of believing that things could ever, ever, ever get better, and I remember the day I started listening to that voice in me that never lies and is never wrong.