Oh Back To School...

Hello, dear friends,
I am back with exciting news: I am going back to college!
The place I work at has a program that reimburses college students for their approved educational expenses, and my co-workers have been encouraging me to continue on with my schooling, because - education always stays with you, doesn't it? Finally, I learned of the University of La Verne program - several degrees being offered right through our local Hancock College - and made a decision. I am going for my Bachelor's in Business Administration.
Now, in the past, when I posted such announcements, I would always get responses such as, "Congratulations!" and "Go for it!" and "You've got it!" This time, I say it's too early to break out the champagne, so to speak. I am taking it very slow and very seriously - one class at a time. Right now - online, as my job is my first priority. Later, depending on the situation, I may start taking evening classes.
I am also being more pragmatic, - that is (also unlike before) I am not "throwing my all" into the goal of education. I am stating this because when I talked on the phone to my academic adviser, he was very eager to suggest I sign up for everything all at once and "get it out of the way." No, I said. I work full time. I have limits to my time and strength. Education is important, but only if it is congruent with other parts of my life, helps me understand and advance, and does not interfere with my ability to make a living. He seemed a bit bummed and irritated at the end, but.. so what. I got my SEP out of him and signed up for my first class - Algebra -  a couple of weeks later.
Algebra... I have spent most of my educational life trying to avoid it. Now, it seems, there is nowhere to escape. I am tackling it, one lesson and one homework assignment at a time. Officially, the class started Monday, but our amazing teacher gave us a two week head start by posting all the materials on the website two weeks early. Tuesday, I went to the Math Center and rented a scientific calculator, and checked the Center's hours. I know I will be coming there for help regularly, so might as well get comfortable.
Speaking of getting comfortable... I learned all over again how good the coffee is at the college cafeteria, and how tasty their muffins are. Every time I get back to school, I re-discover that fact all over again. For years, educational pursuit for me has been associated with hot strong drinks and pastries.

A Step in the Right Direction

Hello, dear friends,

After all the talking, thinking, crying, doubting, and procrastinating I filed for divorce. I almost automatically want to type in the word "finally" in that sentence, but no, not finally. A step like that requires more than a few weeks consideration, especially when it has been a long relationship (in our case - 13 years).  I took my time (almost eight months), but when I was ready, I did it.

Why did I do it? Was it necessary? Could this break have been avoided, repaired, resolved? These are the questions I kept asking myself during these past eight months, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that - yes, it was necessary and no, it could not ever be repaired. Too many things happened. Too much trust has been lost.

How did it happen? Two people don't fall in love and get together with a thought, " I think I will make this person's life miserable for the rest of our lives." We have good intentions, good wishes, "nothing but the best" in mind for our partners - and ourselves. Yet, it did not work out that way.

 My husband and I have gone through a lot - enough to have split up any other couple a lot sooner, I believe. Seven years ago, I was attacked by his then adolescent son and had to have surgery on my hands. After physical therapy, psychotherapy, relaxation, meditation and god knows what else - I still have PTSD, - it stays with you, apparently, and gets triggered by stressful situations. Sort of an emotional luggage that you lug around with you forever.

Last year, I was overweight, stressed, anxious, and jobless. It seemed that, no matter what I tried, I could not get a job. Not even part-time. I had no income of my own. I was completely dependent on my husband - financially (he had a job), physically (he had the car and drove it, and I don't), and, it seemed, emotionally. When he was upset, my girls and I were afraid to talk or laugh; when a problem needed to be discussed or resolved, I could not address it without my fearing his reaction: a nervous breakdown, a crying fit, a fainting spell. Family and friends suggested I was patient and understanding, for he had a lot on his plate, he had to deal with so much... I tried to be patient. I excused and explained away many a tantrum: health issues, depression, hard day, stress at work, stress at home... the list went on and on and on. Then, one day my daughter told me, "Mom, when I find the right person to be with, I'm never getting married." -"Why?" I was surprised. The answer that followed, however, positively stunned me. "Well, look at the way you are being treated. I'm never putting up with that!"

I looked at myself... Thirteen years. I was fat. I couldn't get a job. I got stressed out with too many people around. Or no people around. I couldn't breathe in confined spaces - and couldn't walk without falling in open spaces. Every time I tried to raise objections about anything, they got filed away and dismissed without even being heard, - or was it just my perception? I could not stop apologizing for things, - yet, I was not even sure what it was I was apologizing for... To complete the picture, I could not have a decent conversation with my daughters about anything - there seemed to be a barrier between us...   I was pathetic.

All these things were true - but they weren't necessarily my husband's fault. I did it to myself, and I had to find a way to get better, to find purpose, to... oh god I did not even know what. All I knew was that- I was unhappy and feeling worthless. I fully accepted that it was my own personal problem, and no one else's, but I did not know what to do. I could not find the source of this misery, this draining feeling that sucked all the life and purpose out of me.

Now, eight - almost nine - months after the separation - I am.. I am. I am! (Drum roll). I don't fully know what "I am" means yet, but I am coming back - slowly, but surely. First, I started to taste food. About a month on my own, I sat down to breakfast  (fried eggs, bacon and tea with toast) - and realized it was delicious. That was the first sign that I was going in the right direction. Then - I got a job... lost a job (to a panic attack and over work)... found another job and kept it. In addition, I lost almost forty pounds since last year.

It does not mean, of course, that life has not been difficult. I don't have the financial security I used to have; I have to work - not just when I "feel like it," but when I am scheduled, and sometimes even when I am not; I have to be very careful with money I earn, and still I may end up without a roof over my head within the next month or two. Am I scared? Of course. I am scared, worried, stressed.. but this time, I can do something about it. I am not helpless. Things may get worse before they get better, but they will, eventually, get better - just as long as I don't give up and do the right thing, for myself and for my daughters.

Friends that see me tell me that I look better than ever... Acquaintances I meet mention how I have "changed" and became more "lively." My daughters and I can talk - and finish a conversation, and (alas!) agree on most things without anyone throwing a tantrum.. At the same time, I have had to say "no" more times than I said "yes" to them. Yet, they listen - and understand. I have a feeling that they are learning something from me right now... Perseverance, perhaps. Ability to stay strong in the face of hard times. I can feel that they truly respect me, and that I am earning it with my actions - every day.

I want to finish this rambling post with the words of my favorite movie character Baron Munchausen: "Long live Divorce, for it takes away lies I hate so much!" All right, perhaps its' a bit vague and nutty if you have not seen the whole movie, but those who have would understand me right now...

Thank you for reading this until the end.

Until next time,

A Bit of Stitching, High Anxiety, and Instruments of Medieval Torture

Hello, dear friends!
First of all, I want to share some stitching I have done over the past three weeks...

First, I thought of posting five or six progress pictures, but then, feeling brave(r) than usual, I decided to make it into a movie. This is still work in progress - desperately needing a broom and a header (where the huge brown circle is) - but, overall, I am happy with the result. Now to see if Blogger is able to play this... Keep your fingers crossed for me! 

Other than stitching, I am still dedicated to the gym, although in my mind I now refer to it as "medieval torture chamber." I am sure many of you can relate: when you are on the machine, everything hurts, and afterwords, everything hurts even more. The look of the machine, with all of its gadgets, screws and adjustment levers, strongly reminds me of the medieval torture device. In my case, the personal trainer (a.k.a. "the torture master") adjusts the devices and makes me go through the routine, assuring me the whole time that it's good for me. Finally, the screams, moans and groans of people around me (mostly males lifting weights) add the final touch and make the experience of the torture chamber complete.

A separate word about the moaning and groaning fellow sufferers... Mostly, they are men, and they lift weights, and they tend to drop and smash those weights all over the place. From a distance, it sounds something like this: "Arrrrgh! - Boom! - Clang... - Oooh... " The sound sequence is repeated over and over, with the "arrrgh"'s getting louder and more painful, and booms and clangs more loud. I don't know why these men do it this way - maybe, they think it sounds macho, attractive, like "look at me, I am so strong"? For me, at its loudest/dramatic it sounded like the guy was having a heart attack. Otherwise, it seemed like he was taking a painful dump. So, in conclusion: gentlemen, stop showing off! If you have to scream lifting the weight, that means you need to switch to a lighter weight. Making scary near-death-like noises only intensifies the "torture chamber" effect I talked about earlier.

To be fair, going to the gym does make me feel better overall, and I also lost a little weight - five pounds, to be exact, - thanks mostly to following the "torture master"'s routine. So, although I do call her that (in my mind), I am actually grateful to her.

Until next time - happy everything!

What I do besides stitching

Of course, stitching is always first for me. But, with the summer break coming up, I have changed my rituals a bit ...
First of all,

I have put together a puzzle. The girls helped.... After it was completed, we took a picture, took it apart and put it away.
Then, I signed up for summer classes. I am taking an online accounting class and a swimming lab. I took the swimming lab thinking I would have plenty of time... until I saw my accounting schedule. Twelve chapters, six weeks, twelve homework sets... Plus quizzes and exams. I forgot - it's summer! Everything is shorter and faster in the summer. But, so far I am doing all right. I have sat myself down and completed the first homework set and a quiz in the first two days! And I was able to swim for an hour. I am super... something!
I planned all this swimming and academics under the impression that the girls were going out of state to see their father. I thought, with them visiting family I would go crazy sitting alone in the house, so why not do something? Now we have found out that the girls, in fact, are not going anywhere... But my schedule stays! Whatever it's going to be, it most definitely won't be boring.
And in conclusion, here is one of my stitching companions, Dusty.