Patterns left by the X

When most people recognize they are stuck in patterns they try to break them. This single life, as short as it’s been thus far, has me stuck in a repetitive scenario. What is becoming obvious is the type of guy I go for. This has nothing to do with the physical, but the emotional.

My “jury”, that is my well-trusted friends, seem to think I go for an emotionally unavailable guy. The men I have dated, in particular the ones without children, have a decidedly self-centred bent. My thinking is that without a history of responsibilities and feelings toward those, whether that is an indication of maturity or not, it is a hard mesh with my life.

I suppose I may fall into that odd category of a non-traditional woman. That is, I am not looking for a guy to support me, to give me children, or even to live with me. If that is what the trend now calls a “cougar”, so be it. I’m all for the feline comparisons, though I feel slightly young to be thrown into that stereotype. Most men, stuck in traditional thinking, have a hard time with this concept.

Back to the emotionally unavailable. I have expectations about how I think men should respond. Unfortunately, I find myself disappointed by most responses, even when it’s obvious there is something there. I always want more, want to give more, and now even hold myself back emotionally. This leads me to inevitable preoccupation. Expectation is a killer. Then again there is that nagging thought that if this was “to be” it would be easy and obvious. I’ve been told this is idealistic.

As time has gone on, I see that the X was very much like that. Not giving emotionally what I wanted or needed. This left me with an odd desire I feel stuck with and have no outlet for. But I don't want to end up in the same situation I tried to fit into for so long. The next time has to be different.

In the short time of singledom, I am already trying to figure out these patterns and see what works for me. It’s an ongoing process. Awareness first.

High heels and other single gal exploits

One of the major effects I was left with after my stroke was my physical imbalance. The result was a limp and months of using a cane and wearing flat shoes. I admit I was thrilled that flats were in fashion. Now I have achieved the goal of wearing heels. It sounds superficial but it speaks volumes as I click clack my way along the sidewalk.

High heels were one thing I never thought I'd be able to wear again. This goes along with running, dancing and skiing. The feeling, being completely absorbed in the feminine sway, is hard to describe. It's not that I want to be another character or wear them as part of a role, it's part of me I thought was lost and the rediscovery is rather thrilling.

Like a kid on a rollercoaster, I feel all grown up now and have that "hey, look at me" quality. I feel like a superhero, perhaps I should don a cape. My kids look at me as if I'm high up in a tower, as it should be. That way I can instill more fear (kidding).

I have found out that after a couple drinks I can be rather wobbly on my high heels. This is not cute. And like a friend that had to make a similar choice, I choose heels over cocktails. For the moment anyway, we'll see how long that lasts.

I suppose underlying this new leggy look is whether men will take interest, but in the moment I am not thinking of that. It is truly an afterthought and to be honest, when I think about it, it seems a bit much, overwhelming and perhaps intimidating. I mean if I were a guy I wouldn't dig it. But clearly some men do. I'm not sure if it's the hobbling around bit or the idea of long legs wrapped around them.

People's shoes, particularly women's shoes, tell much about the person without really knowing them, over the knee boots, stilettos, platform pumps or ballet flats. Whatever their story, it's all tied up in the feminine, how you embrace it, your commitment to it, or not. Of course it is not everyone's thing.

While I am taking small steps, my heels are not really that high, I take them confidently and finally feel like I'm striding. It's not a bad thing to live in a metaphor.

When the X comes to call

I have just endured another visit from the X. It was nice actually and we spent a fair bit of time together with ease and comfort. He had the kids a lot, which I realized I missed more than anything else, that sort of shared parenting camaraderie. And then he was gone. A harsh reminder that this would still be my life if we were together. So here I am, boomeranged back into single parenthood.

I do give him credit for being a stand up guy. He came back earlier than planned because I wasn’t well. The allergies to god-knows-what, continue. Luckily no more hospital visits, but I’m plagued by skin irritations and low energy.

Mainly I am supremely frustrated that this illness continues to be a reminder in my life of the state I am in. There are so many periods where I feel fine, then there is this kind of regression. One friend pointed out that he sees me as someone who really wants to be active but my body won’t allow it. I guess my brain won’t allow it since that is where this has all stemmed from.

Needless to point out, I was pleased to have some time off from the kids. The X was instrumental in segueing into our routine. I felt some guilt when the classroom seasonal cold made it’s rounds with the kids, but then realized it was good for him to see what that is like too ie. Sick kids staying home for days on end.

I cheekily emailed him an article on Shared Parenting this week. It is a fantasy for me really. He travels to work and will probably never live in the same city as us. He briefly replied that he agreed with the concept in principle but reminded me that it just wasn’t in the cards with our life.

On I go, forging ahead and mapping my way through this single life with all its checks and balances, ups and downs.

Allergy

I have spent much of the summer feeling very strong and dare I say, vital. I was having less naps, less need for downtime, and as a result felt pretty normal. The meds that were making me drowsy were being pulled back so that helped. I had late nights socially, energy for my kids, and was thrilled that things were leveling out.

Two nights ago I went to bed noticing some hives on my legs. I thought it was a result of stress since this had happened once in the past. I didn’t think much further about it and just went to bed. I was aware that the previous four days I had been quite fatigued. My neuropathic leg pain had jumped up and I was walking with my cane again. The previous weekend had been truly exhausting, but I ploughed through it.

When I woke the next morning my lip was swollen. Classic allergy response. I went straight to my family doctor who questioned my blood pressure meds and suggested I replace them immediately and take Benadryl. That didn’t work and I ended up in Emergency being treated for anaphylactic response, epinephrine shot, IV’s of cortisone and god knows what else. My lips were swollen to a ridiculous size and I was covered in hives from head to toe.

There is still the mystery of what I am allergic to. I have been on the same meds for over 6 months, there is the possibility of food allergy, but I ate nothing different. The hives have lingered though I have a 5 day course of heavy duty Prednisone to take, which knocks me out completely.

The whining side of me is really saying, “Now? Really? I thought I was fine”. I recognize that rest is a must for recovery. Not so easy with two kids. Surprisingly, and possibly out of guilt, the X is coming in a few days to support the situation. I’m sure he will take the kids and that will give me a break.

The Tell

One of the last visible “tells” I have relative to my stroke, is my voice. It is often squeaky and tight sounding, people who don’t know ask if I have a cold. My favorite compliment came on a recent date when he said he thought it sounded sexy. I was skeptical because I am so sensitive about how I sound.

The fact is it’s just embarrassing for me at this point. I can’t go into loud places like bars or parties because no one can hear me. I definitely shy away from any scenarios where I may meet new people because I am so conscious of my voice.

The stroke affected my right side and subsequently paralyzed my vocal chords. Though I was very lucky to have my speech, my voice has returned very slowly. I have had months of voice therapy, drills and exercises, cameras shoved down my nose and still deal with varying degrees of sound on a daily basis.

At this point it seems to be an accepted fact that the trauma is what has affected it. My vocal chords, the experts summarize, have healed. I am holding emotion in my voice box unconsciously. This is bit like people who have a traumatic incident and never speak again.

I feel when emotion hits me. My throat tickles, a bit like butterflies, an actual physical stab. It has happened when I’ve read an email that affected my feelings or when I see caller I.D. and it’s someone I’m worried about speaking to. The most recent and thoroughly relevant instance was when I was on my way to a lawyer’s meeting regarding my divorce. I had to review some material before arriving, by the time I got there and throughout the meeting, I had no voice.

Everyday gets better. Mornings are the best, I sound like my old self. By evening, particularly when fatigue sets in, I am high pitched and tight. Sometimes it really just hurts like someone has their hands around my neck. The more I let go of some stresses, the better I sound. Lately it’s pretty good. I sound strong most of the time and the best is when friends notice and say so.

So much of my illness has been connected to stress and emotion. This final piece audibly shows how far I have come and how much stronger I can be. It feels good to finally be getting there.

Relapse

When I was married I had this reoccurring dream: My X is telling in an extremely deadpan, unemotional voice that it is over and he is seeing someone else. In every dream I’m devastated and I wake up upset. I told him about these at the time but he always reassured me. In fact I was trying to interpret them and wondering if they were more about my own fears than anything else. Well I was wrong, the scenario played itself out almost exactly this week.

We spent a therapy session that was supposed to be for organizing kid scheduling, talking about us instead. The idea was to make sure we were both on the same track, we weren’t, and that we understood each other, we don’t, and get a handle on my/our anger, we didn’t. But we did agree not to take a destructive path, which will force us to put aside pettiness and control impulses toward hot button topics.

I had to hear, really for the first time that it was truly over and he was moving on. Not “was” but that he had. The girlfriend is a relationship he is keen on pursuing. To hear these things, yes, devastating, but also I couldn’t stand that I had to hear it through someone else; the therapist. I feel like he was such a coward. I was angry that I had to hear that finality communicated this way, though he had paraphrased it throughout the last week.

For the most part, I’m upset at myself for letting his visit here completely shake me, make me question how far I’ve come and show me those dark places again that I’d thought were gone. Was I not convinced it was really over? Possibly, but not being able to make that decision myself was hard to bear.

I can’t breathe around him and can’t wait for him to leave. It seems impossible to heal with him in my sphere. Now I look forward to working past all this, and truly, truly finding the strength to move forward and pursue what I really want. All this while being mindful of my children and their ever growing personalities and emotions.

New Year

This is my New Year. I feel happy, positive, downright sunny about whatever may come along. Call it blind optimism if you will, but I think I even forgot what this felt like. I like it. Though the path took some getting used to, I feel like I'm successfully on it and striding forth.

My birthday (yesterday) also coincided with my hospital release date a year ago. I was in for almost 3 months so it was a huge relief to be out after the ordeal. Of course I had no idea it would take this long to truly recover. Of which I have been reporting to others to be 80% fulfilled.

Accepting my situation on every level, health, home,work and relationships had been an incredible, and clearly, ongoing journey. The time has come for me to enjoy all it has to offer. Even if it means dealing with drama, the good and the bad. I'm figuring out what's important and the sieving that to the top, without letting the bad completely fall through, dealing with it, but definitely letting it go afterwards.

My kids and the X's arrival is imminent. Back to being needed in a mommy way. I'm standing by and ready to carve out and define the other role.