What happens to you can help someone else it happens to....or the circle of disaster.

The one thing that I have held onto since my ejection from the bubble was the fact that even though I didn't like what happened to me..(at all, I might add) I do believe that things do happen for a reason. The issue is that sometimes I don't have a clue what the reason is..but I kind of had a brain alert today.

When Reid died, I remember vaguely a couple that lived down the street coming to visit..they brought a book to me about Children and Grief. Their own son was stabbed at a party, and they had to go through the torture of court dates and trials. (Something I thank God I was spared). The book became my lifeline..I kept it and read it over and over again. I guess I thought if I read it enough, perhaps I would understand the reason why my dear Reid was no longer telling me "Did you see me do a back flip?" when he actually didn't. I think.

When the Mayor put me through the torture of being homeless, going through divorce, stretching things out to be difficult and mean, I hung on to the fact that everyone kept telling me it would get better. Although I didn't believe them, really. I'd walk Kitty until neither of us could move, and once again drove everyone crazy needing reassurance that things would get better.

And slowly, things did.

I didn't feel like the monster from the Black lagoon was grabbing me by the neck every time I thought of Reid. I could listen to the High School band that he played the tuba in without having to go home and crawl into bed. I could see his friends and not die inside. I could drive down the street where I used to live without the fear of seeing the Mayor. I could pull into my friend Pam's' driveway without hiding my car in the garage.

And then, something else started to happen. I could actually help other people.

When my dear Pam lost her wonderful daughter, I was there. I knew how I could help. We could sit and cry, and talk, and really didn't care who saw. I got it. And from our grief, we developed a friendship that I truly treasure.

When the Gibson family lost a father, a husband, a brother, and a son, I could be there. I could give the book that meant so much to me to them.

When I have had friends and co-workers go through divorces that have been painful and devastating, I could be there for them. I could listen, and let them know that even through I STILL feel that time is a four letter word, it does help heal.

If Reid hadn't died...if the Mayor hadn't decided that my usefulness was over, I never would have been in a place where I was a small help to others in a small way. And that, in some small way,  is the gift of my pain.

You can't go home again..

I know I will bring up my dating (or lack of dating) a lot in this blog. So if this bores you, just click away from the blog now. And please keep in mind I am 13 in dating years.

So far, not a lot has happened to me dating wise. I know it's reported that women are fickle, but holy cow, so are men. Or something. I have no clue. Please keep in mind that I like to be able to understand things in my small brain, and the only thing that I have learned that is I don't understand AT ALL. (did I mention AT ALL?)

The latest incident (or life lesson, if you want to be more technical) involves a man that I met last year. We talked some, texted a lot (by the way, texting seems to be the new way to call, rather than talk..but that's another story).  We met one time, talked, tried to walk his dog (who he had taken on a long mountain hike the day before, and could barely move) and then I left to go home. For some reason, Rio Rancho (where I live, and is about 30 minutes) from Albuquerque, seemed like some foreign country to him. And then, after the texting, and the talking, and the professions of how wonderful I was, guess what happened? Yes, he disappeared.

Yay.

Of course, this was during the period where I freaked out over any small disturbance in my dating life force, and my poor friends had to spend a week or so convincing me he was not the right person for me. And after spending many days listening the many reasons I was not enough..so he felt the need to disappear, I did go back to my regularly scheduled programming of life.

Until last week.

We e-mailed back and forth a couple of times, then he asked me to text him. So of course, I did. However, this time, I was a bit wiser, and when I began to see the same "texting pattern" begin again, I set some boundaries of what worked for me.  Of course he realized that. Of course he was sorry that he just disappeared. Of course he thought I was special.

Until last night.

Now in the past, you usually got bad news over the phone, or in a letter..maybe even in an e-mail. This was through a text. Apparently, he had just ended a relationship, and was "using me" as comfort for the moment. He of course, was sorry. He wasn't able "to give" at this point in time, and I deserved more.

Well, that was right.

I have always been excellent at being "deliberately vague"..and I was brought up to be polite. So at first I was. I understood, I appreciated his honesty, hopefully we could go out as friends sometime.

Then I thought about it.

I texted back, and let him know that although I appreciated his honesty, he just basically repeated what he did to me the first time we met. I was a diversion...and he somehow managed happened to have a relationship after me after being constantly busy..and all I was this time was a diversion again.

Hurray.

However, this time, I let him know that, and let him know that I wasn't a diversion..I was a person that deserved better. And I do, really. I do.

It is hard to do the right things at times...

Did I mention that I don't like change, especially? And I have been through a lot in the last four years. Although I guess if you think about it, you change all the time. Some decisions you make, some are made for you. And some you can see like a train engine coming...and as hard as you try to avoid it, it happens anyway.

This weekend I made a very hard decision. My 16 year old dog, Sophie, has not been doing well the last several years. For one thing, she is old. Her back legs were totally stiff and arthithic. Her hearing was poor, her eyes were glazed, and she had started urinating in places she just didn't normally urinate. And she barked randomly...a lot of time at 4 in the morning.

I tried to rationalize that she was eating, she seemed alert, but was just getting old. Sophie has been with me through everything..the end of my first marriage, the trip to New Mexico, the disastrous 11 years that were my nightmare of a marriage, the death of my son, the betrayal of said disastrous marriage,my "homeless spring tour"...and my life that began when I moved into my house. And through all this, quiet Sophie was there. She followed me always. If I stood up to go to another room, she was behind me. If I went to the bathroom, there she was. She was always with me. And with all the changes that I have been through, I just didn't want to have another one.

However, things come to you when they should. And I knew (with the help of my friends) that it was time for Sophie to end her life with dignity. She couldn't stand on tile anymore. There were several times that I would come home to find her lying on the floor..stuck. And as much as I didn't want to do it, I knew this was the one gift I could give to her, for all she has done and been to me.

My good friend Eileen lives in Jemez Valley, a region of New Mexico. We took Sophie to a vet that she had for many years. He was as gracious and kind as any man I've ever met. Through my tears, he explained to me what Sophie had been going through..and what she would continue to go through. He told me that I did a very good job taking care of her for 16 years, and it was time. I lifted her up on the table, and hugged her, told her I loved her, and thanked her for all she has been in my life. He said a prayer to her in his native language, and then she was gone. We took her to Eileens home, and she is buried under a huge oak tree in the mountains. She is there with people who also loved her.

I know that a lot of people wouldn't understand what  a dog could mean to me. Sophie just wasn't a dog. She was a gentle, constant, kind companion who brought more to my life than most people I know.

Thank you, Sophie.

Apparently, I've "Gots Issues."

One of my favorite school stories involves a little boy named Fernando, who got in trouble with his brother, Gabriel, on the bus. Well, Gabriel really got in trouble, and Fernando happened to be along for the ride...so to speak. As Fernando was explaining to me the particulars of the story, and I asked about his brother's part..he looked at me earnestly with his big brown eyes, and explained, "Ms. Moore, Gabriel's gots issues. He goes to a therapy group every Wednesday."

That story and that phrase has stuck with me. In fact, I use it often when explaining any sort of issue about anyone. And now that includes me as well.

I grew up in a family that had two sisters (not counting me) and a mother. My father died when I was 10. His death has been explained to me and my sisters as a pancreatic disease, but I never thought that was the whole truth.  (My family is big on secrets). I knew that he had some kind of nervous breakdown when I was in the third grade..and he was addicted to codeine cough syrup. This we discovered in finding hundreds of cough syrup bottles on top of the breezeway after his death.

My mother was an alcoholic. She was a wonderful mother during the day. After my father died, I remember her dating a bit, but I am sure my  little 10 year old glare at her dates did not help. So it was my two sisters, myself, and my Mama. And although she was great during the day, she was mean and scary at night. She would disguise bourbon (or whatever) in coke...and by 8 or 9 o'clock, she became nasty. And it was amazing how she could get on the phone and call people...and basically ruin their evening as well. I lost a lot of boyfriends that way, and I guess you can't blame their parents. I wouldn't want my son hanging out with a daughter who had a mom who basically told you off..and that is putting it nicely. 

My job..as well as my sisters, was to get her to go to sleep. Because if you could get her to go to sleep, the meanness and the phone calls would stop. This, however, was a bit difficult for the three of us. I remember my two sisters coming into my room in the attic, and telling me that we needed to get Mama to go to sleep. She was forever fixing the toilet while she drank as well. Why this is, I don't know.

This went on past my college years. It was strange. I could be out on a date, and I would know if I came home she would be drinking. And she was not nice to my dates, I might add. She did the same to my sisters, and was quite nasty in her tone and her gestures. 

When my children and my sisters' children came along, things changed. She had larynx cancer, and the treatments made her ill when she drank.  This was a good thing, because I had made up my mind that my children would not be around to experience what I did. And my children, as well as my niece and nephews, loved her...and did so until her death 

My first marriage was peaceful and safe...no tension, no scariness, just a stable environment..until I got stupid and threw it away. When I married "The Mayor" I basically went right back into the same situation I did with my mother...the same tension, the same kind of quicksand, without the drinking.

And now I am out of it, and rebuilding me. Or trying to figure out the new me, or whatever I am. Who knows? I've been going to grief counseling for the last four years since Reid died, and then that ended when the state had cutbacks. I thought I was doing ok, and was my usual mess at Christmas. Dena told me that I really needed to go back to counseling. I had done couples counseling with Ken Hodder. In fact all the children have seen him, except for Reid. And I am sure he would have if he had been alive. So I went this past week. To be honest, I am not really sure why I did. I felt ok, and thought I was doing well.  At the end of the first session, Ken informed me that this would be "long term" work..which to be honest, jolted me a bit. And then my wise Yoda friend told me today that she felt that I had issues from my childhood which have basically made me a mess.

So here I am...with long term issues. Funny. When Ken asked me what I wanted from this counseling, I told him I was kind of floundering...that I wanted to build a life for myself that was real and whole. At least that's what I think I want. We will see. We will see. 

The things I don't know about dating...and trust me, the list is long.

I like to think that I am a fairly smart and capable person..I mean, after all, I graduated from college with cum laude status...I got my Masters and Educational Specialist degrees, for goodness sake. I actually manage to run a school without harm to self or others..too much. However, I have major learning issues when it comes to the world of dating that I am now in..one in which shouldn't be going on at my age..but then again, when do I have control over anything? :)

My friend Eileen tells me that in dating years I am 13, and she is right. I KNEW the rules when I was in my teens, and they were simple and easy to follow.Especially in the South. You dated boys...one at a time. You could do anything you wanted to...but good girls just did not have sex. Period. If you did, you were "one of those girls" who mysteriously disappeared, and people whispered about. And I always did the right thing..I was a good rule follower. So I dated one boy, then another, having fun, but never going outside the rule box.

Fast forward to now..and the bursting bubble. None of the rules are the same...in fact I am not sure if there are any rules. And since I depend on the rules to follow, this causes further confusion and delay for me. And men now come with additional baggage..as I do. Some you meet seem nice..but want sex on the first date..or maybe without a first date. Others seem interested for a while, then faded away. This fact at first made me feel less than ideal, and put my poor friends through hell, as I dissolved into hysterics each time I was "rejected." I was sure that I was entirely responsible for why a man did not find me fascinating and worth being with. I used to say that my goal was to get past 3 dates with a man. Well, I have met that goal, I will say. But none of the dates have lead to anything that resembles a relationship. I hear many reasons:

1. They needed "time to think." (That translated into there was another person they were interested in.)
2. They "liked me a lot", but were starting a relationship with another person. (Well, at least they were honest.)
3. They wanted sex on the first or second date..but not me, exactly. ( I am many things, but I draw the line at just getting together for sex.) 
4. Or...and this is my favorite...they just simply disappeared.

Now I have never been good at playing the game thing. My friends, who are suffering through my dating trials and tribulations (I'm amazed they are still my friends at times) have told me many guidelines for dating a man:

1. Never accept a date for the next day. This obviously makes you seem needy and desperate. Hmmmm..
2. NEVER make first contact. The man contacts you. (Great.)
3. Never respond immediately to a call, a text, an e-mail. You have to wait a set amount of time to make yourself seem as if you are very busy and important. (This is hard for me...I like to talk to people, and I like to respond immediately. But I wait, because I get the "look" from my friends if I do not.

Now, my self esteem has never been the best..especially when it concerns men..and I could not tell you why in the world why. I am sure I could figure it out, given time..but I also have a hard time drawing the line between what I really want, and not settling. My friends tell me I am amazing person, and that is wonderful they feel that way. I have always felt like small children and dogs like me, but men, not so much. I know that I could do a lot to improve on my self physically, and I am working in this area. But you look at dating profiles of men, who want someone fit, attractive, who " is at home in an evening gown, as well as a pair of jeans" and I know that I will never fit that profile. They are all looking for the "hot" factor. And once again I am many things, but "hot" has never been one of them. 

All the above leads to the fact that I simply don't know what the path is going to be for me where dating and men are concerned. I am learning  a few things:

1. NEVER assume that just because a man is highly interested in you one week, he will be the next. 
2. NEVER assume that just because a man is talking to you, he is not talking to 3, 245 women as well. The competition is fierce out there, I tell you.
3. For some strange reason, men like it more when you don't act interested. 

I was told by the wise Mr. Abney (with the assistance of the Dali Lama) that "when the moment is right,  what is to be, becomes." They are both right. With each encounter, I do learn more things about men, the world, and more importantly, myself. I do know down inside me that I am a person worth knowing and building a relationship with. Eileen keeps telling me that if a man can't accept me for who I am, then he is not someone I would want to be with anywho. And...being the slow learner that I am, I am realizing bit by bit she is right.

So I am waiting for the right moment...but I still have lessons to learn. Dang it. 

People believe that you are like the way they think..just saying.

It is important to keep in mind before I start this post that I am a slow learner. I am sure most of you reading this will look at the title and think, "Durf. Of course they do." However I did not. This rambling start leads into part two of why my bubble burst..I promise.

If you could pick one word to describe me, it would probably be nice. I AM very nice. I even looked up the definition of nice, and it is me: "pleasing, agreeable, kind, amiably pleasant, delightful."  Makes me sound like some kind of dessert, doesn't it? I don't get mad easily, I am easy to get along with, I care about people and things. (I had a hard time discarding of a black widow spider in my office one time, for God's sakes.) However, being nice also means that I approach the world from the standpoint that everyone else is nice, too. And mostly they are. I have navigated through life quite successfully on this principle.  Until my second marriage with the man that my sister described as the "Mayor of Crazy Land". And she was right. Damn it. 

I am not going to talk a lot about the Mayor in this blog...it's not productive for my life now, and it's not something I am proud of at all. It really rocked my sense of who I was and what I believed about myself. But he is important to mention in the sense that he was another huge force that blew my bubble apart. 

Once again, please keep in mind that I am a slow learner. When I first met the Mayor, he was really nice. He was charming and fun and romantic..all those things that you read about in books (big mistake to believe that, by the way) and although I was always a person that thought about things, and debated what I should do, and asked everyone their opinion, I knew what I was doing with him was right. This should have been a big red flag for me from the start. 

There were some red flags waving, however..that I ignored. 

1. He never seemed to do anything with his two children. 
2. He lived his entire life on a computer. And I mean hours.
3. He would get irritated by things that I thought were kind of silly to get irritated about. However, I was nice, remember...and just kind of brushed that aside. 
4. He didn't have friends. I always had friends...and thought it was a little strange.

The thing that is hard to admit here is that I was so caught up in the romance of it all that I totally disregarded my friends, my family, and everyone who thought I had lost my mind to be with this man. The thing that is scary to me to this day is that I thought that it was the smartest thing I have ever done..and I moved myself and my two children to move out to New Mexico to be with him. And it was wonderful at first. And then it became real. And I was in no way prepared for the real.

I'm not going to go into the details of the years we spent together, except to say a couple of things. Since I am the kind of person who does what they are supposed to do, no matter what, that is what I did. I had two lives...the life at school that really became my safe place, my home..and the life that I had at home where I would come and do what I needed to do..and pray for Sundays, where all the children and I were alone, without him.

Living with him was like living in quick sand...you could say something one time, and it would be fine. You could say the exact thing a day or so later, and it would lead into a huge explosion and a fight. He would get upset about the slightest things, and contradict himself constantly. And if you dared to question the variances, you were being disrespectful. So I learned to disengage. I became very good at it, in fact. He would start his tirades, and I would just go away somewhere where things were sane and made sense. And nothing much made sense.

And then there were the children. There were mine, and his. And I will tell you if the entire sense of it all was to meet his two children, and somehow make a difference in their lives, it was worth it. Both of his children were lonely, sad, and abused. This I saw from the start. They couldn't really make a decision, cause they weren't allowed to at all. I tried to do what I could to protect and help them. Sometimes I could, sometimes I couldn't, and sadly, sometimes I disengaged to survive.

I will say one thing though about this time. I learned to stand up for myself and stand my ground. It would have been easier just to go along and do what he wanted me to do. But the fact of the matter is that even if I did that, it still wouldn't have been enough. I lost enough of myself as it was in this marriage..I put my children through things that I never should have stood for. But I did build a good life for myself with an amazing network of friends...who became my family. Only really a few friends knew the whole story. It was too embarrassing to admit that I put up with all this quicksand. But it was cyclical...he would do something horrible, there would be an explosion, he would be "sick" for a couple of days, and then it would go back to something resembling normal.It was abuse..but I was too close to the situation to see it. 

And then Reid died. And I will say that it seemed to me that he became the man that I always saw in him...somewhere. He was the one that tried to revive Reid...and got me out of the room, so I wouldn't see him move Reid's lifeless body to the floor. And if he NEVER did anything more for me than that, I am grateful. I honestly think about that, and wonder where I would be today if I had to do that. 

After Reid died, my life kind of fell apart..just saying. I'd go to school , do what I was supposed to do (I think) get in the car, remember that Reid died, and go home, and crawl into bed. I was able to watch "What Not to Wear", but that was about it. And he was wonderful. He told me that he would be there for me, that I could do what I needed to do, and that I didn't have to worry about anything. And he was. He was there for me when I went to Reid's grave site and feel apart when I saw the Headstone. He was there for me when I went to Michael's and tried to find "boy-like" flowers for his little headstone, and I couldn't breathe. And I really began to believe that he had changed..that he was the man that the girls and I always thought he could be.

I was wrong. 

Once thing that I always believed about him was that he told the truth. He was always so adamant about the fact that he was truthful, that I believed it. What I didn't know was that he was NEVER truthful..he twisted and turned everything. I didn't know that the day after Reid died, he was upset at me for not "moving on, and realizing that other people were still here". I didn't know that six months after Reid's death he was telling friends that I had "grieved long enough." I didn't know that he beat the hell out of his daughter's face the day before she fled our house. I believed him.

Big mistake.

About a year after Reid died, I noticed that he began to spend more time at the computer. He was "meeting" new friends, all who seemed to be women. He said that he was "enjoying" meeting new people, and that I was over reacting to what was going on. I knew what was coming down the road, really. I always knew that when he was finished with me, he would treat me in a callous and cruel way. I had seen him do it to others.

And I was right.

When I began to see evidence that the "friendships" were not that, I began questioning. And of course, he didn't like the questions. And the lies continued to expand...and grow..and it got to a point that I could not survive in this kind of environment. He said he "needed time" to decide if our marriage was worth it..and that he would leave if I wanted him to. So I did want him to.

And of course, he didn't.

So I did.

It took me a  very long time to realize that as devastated I was by this, it was a defining moment in blowing that bubble apart. I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay married, even as bad as the marriage was. And I was upset at myself that when I finally trusted him, he did exactly what I knew he would do. 

But I left. And even though in the months that followed it took everyone of my friends to keep me on the path that led away from crazy land...I did do that. And that one step led to a lot of changes in my life.

Why the Bubble burst...part 1

I'd like to say that I had this wise epiphany  of the heavens opening, and the angels descending upon me..and I realized that not everything is what it seems on the surface. But...(now keep in mind I am a slow learner) it took the most catastrophic event in the world to start my journey and burst the bubble, so to speak.

My son died.

Now, please know that in no way, shape or form, do I believe that God choose to take Reid up to heaven to play his Tuba and do back flips among the clouds so I would become a wiser person. In fact, when I think of all the reasons that Reid could have died, and try to rationalize why such a thing would happen, my small mind just can not wrap my mind around it. It just can't. Now I know I hear reasons.

1. God only gives you what you can handle. (This seems quite unfair, because if I was weak, Reid wouldn't have died?)
2. Reid has done what he needed to do on this earth. (Ok, he made a lot of people laugh, and he absolutely made my world bright and kept me going when everything around me was falling apart) but I find it hard to believe that he didn't have a lot to add to this world. But I do keep in mind I am not God, and I don't know the reasons. I do know that he is a lot smarter than I could ever be.
3. God needed him up there in heaven. (Now this I believe. I look at the colors of the New Mexico sunset, which tend to be orange,and beautiful...and I know that Reid is helping him rewire things. He is probably blowing a HUGE tuba at all the angels and scattering them throughout heaven..which I know most give God a chuckle. And now he can really do back flips. That's another story.)

I am always also fond of the following statement: "I couldn't do this, I don't know how you do it." Now of course you can do it. You HAVE to. You don't have any choice, really. 

When you are planning a life, and envisioning what you think your life will be like, most people do see children in their lives. But the thing you do not see is having a child that you bore, laughed with, adored, die before you do. It's not not natural and not in the natural order of the world. So when Reid died in his sleep, in his bed, and I found him on that early May morning, I didn't even realize that he died at first. I can't tell you what I thought was wrong..but that was really not in my thoughts. And then after to call his dad to tell him he was gone, to hear Whitney's screams as she came home to find ambulances, fire trucks, policemen, and the mayor of Rio Rancho(still wondering why he was there), and then go to the police station to give statements..(because 15 year olds just don't die normally in their sleep) it did begin to sink in that Reid and I were not going on that trip to Arkansas, and my plans for the week were..well, not going the way I planned. I remember sitting in a friend's house and watching the clock, and thinking.."I'm supposed to be in Aramillo...I'm supposed to be in Oklahoma..'.

When you THINK that you are control of your life, and that there is danger in your bubble bursting, you think really strange things.  I remember thinking that if we could just get through the funeral, things would be better. Silly me. Of course you know if you have lost anyone, the easy part is the funeral. The hard part is the after part..which evolves as it goes. (But that's another story for another time.) 

Guess I should explain...

I have always been the kind of person if you tell me something, I believe you. I grew up believing that life was fair...that if you were nice, people would treat you that way. If you worked hard, you would be rewarded for that hard work. I always think most people are nice, and I always gave people the benefit of the doubt. Always. I'm not sure why, but that is not the point of this post.

I was told in a heated moment during my disastrous second marriage (more about that later) that I lived in a bubble. Looking back, I was told that a lot. And although I came to find out that what most people believe is what they believe YOU believe (yet another story) what he said was true. I went through life feeling if I did the right things, the right things would happen. If I filled in the boxes of the person that I was supposed to be:

1. Good daughter. Check.
2. Hard working and industrious student, trying to make As, but not always succeeding. Kind of check.
3. Participating in 2, 304 clubs so that I would be a community member and look like the student I should be. (See Number 2 for more information). Check Check.
4. Going straight to College..do not pass go...work again to make sure grades are in the Dean's list range..being well liked with professors. Check.
5. Having a boyfriend. Check.
6. Marrying said boyfriend, and following him through his career, doing the right club things, having the right number of children. Loving said husband and children, and making a life just like I thought I should do. Check.
7. Becoming a teacher..teaching children and realizing that I was EXACTLY where I should be, and doing EXACTLY what I should be doing. Bonus.
8. Having a nice home, nice cars, nice furniture, saving for vacations, working in the yard..being with my husband and my children. Double check.

Now please do not think that ANY of these above things were a bad thing. I wouldn't change a thing about what happened up to number 8 in my life..and I feel very fortunate to have/had all the 8 things that I listed. The problem with all this was that it fell into my theory that if you did the right things, life was fair. THAT was the part of it all I was wrong about...which leads to the title of this blog: My Life Outside the Bubble. 

Another thing I should explain: I am a slow learner about some things. I like to think that I have a good brain, and I use it pretty efficiently. And I think I do for the most part. But I see life literally..and although that is a good thing for the most part, it is a BAD thing when you do not realize that not every person is not what they claim to be.  Here is where the bubble causes problems. Another thing that is crucial to this blog: Life teaches you lessons. And life (and the bursting of the bubble) decided to start doing this in 2006....which is a whole other story in itself.