Yes I Do

I have been stuck in my writing life.

For a while last year, though I published nothing publicly, I was motivated and writing a memoir which included quite a few stories about my dating life. I think the prologue is decent, the opening is fine and from what a trusted group of friends, family members and a few peers from my now-former writing group have told me, some of the vignettes are downright hysterical. The stories do not paint me in a good light, as I really have pulled some rookie moves over the years. I am far from perfect. I'm a late-bloomer in many areas and I have fumbled along the way.

But as I tried writing a few additional dating chapters they ended up being watered down, boring, run-of-the-mill, blah-blah-blah versions. I knew they should be raw, and real, honest and from the heart. I became stuck because I knew intuitively that for a memoir to be believable, relatable and real, I had to write truthfully. I had felt I could not write because I have been struggling with knowing which are the parts of my life that were important for my story to be told, some of which are quite private, and how I am (hopefully) growing and evolving as a person, while also being sensitive to all the people in my life; my children, my ex-husband, and others.  I never wanted to come across as mean-spirited about the men I've met, as many are honestly just like me, learning by trail and error about themselves and love. I wanted to protect my children, I mean, as they were younger, who wants to read about their mom's dating life? Not my son, for sure. Maybe my daughters. My brother? Oh hell no. In addition, I have tried to never disparage their father and hurt him or our relationship as co-parents. It seems, from his remarks, he did read those blog postings I wrote for our little town and did not appreciate all of them. He wasn't the only one. I dated a man whom mentioned others were commenting at a party about an article I wrote. It was regarding a town hall meeting on housing, that too, was not appreciated by the company he kept. In many ways I should look at those readers as a compliment, at least I have an audience.

But what about the other men I have dated? The ones I might date? I do believe, in at least one case, a man was mortified that I wrote about my life and quickly headed in the other direction. He worked for a very wealthy man in the community and anonymity was a job requirement for him. I have never written about a man I was currently dating and the truth is, I doubt I will. Some things are sacred and personal. But I can't guarantee it.  This man was a beautiful and handsome man, shy, reserved and  a jack-of-all-trades. He was well-read, tidy and a hard worker. He hiked. He was a kind dog owner and about six years my junior. He had supported me before my first marathon by taking me to a carbo-load pancake and egg breakfast at a local diner and gave me a generous certificate for a post-run massage just in time for my birthday. The next week he drove me to the airport before my first bike tour in Maui and picked me up a week later. Then he just went......silent. It hurt. I had a gut-instinct of what happened. He was a dutiful employee and timid to talk to me about my writing. I tried calling him and emailing and then gave up.  I ran into him at Target about a year ago and said hello. He turned beet red. We exchanged pleasantries. I took a deep breath and said, "Why did you have to just disappear, XXXXX? Why not just tell me? I have to be honest, that really hurt."

He looked at me, with a now purple face and mumbled, "I know, I'm sorry."

The truth is, I don't remember exactly what else he said. You know what? I suppose I'm learning it just doesn't matter. I need to write and everyone needs to understand it is only my version of the story. They might have another and that is okay. And would you look at that? I just wrote about the man who wanted to be anonymous.

My writing has suffered these past few months because life has been a bit topsy-turvy for me. I felt burned out at work and was looking seriously at other options; teaching abroad, going to a private school with a really unique program or deciding whether to stay and make changes where I am currently working. I decided to try and redesign my professional career with new goals. One simple change, was simply moving to a new cubicle, redecorating and organizing everything in it. This meant I threw out a lot of old files, outdated materials and duplicated papers.  I created a slightly different "look" and made it a better reflection of who I am and the interests I have in my own life. I also realized that the past six years I had worked in my previous cubicle, working with families and students in grades K-12 and some adult ed students was the longest I have ever physically stayed in one place. In my previous school I had taught 6th grade reading, writing and history. Before that I had taught kindergarten, second, third and fifth grades, traditional and alternative programs, in different rooms, with different curriculum, team members. Realizing six years in one spot is a record for me at work, I also noted that I need to create new curriculum and ideas or I get bored and feel stagnant. Change keeps my teaching practice fresh and I am happier as a result. I have lots of ideas I hope to implement in the future, and though my first day back on Monday was my worst one ever (an idea for another blog posting), I believe this will be a better school year for me. Mainly due to a shift in attitude. This carried over to my house as well, I cleaned out boxes, two car loads to Goodwill and a sidewalk full of giveaways for neighbors. Inside I reorganized my kitchen nook to make it easier to settle-in and write there. I keep it clutter-free and have writing books and ideas easily accessible. I try to file old bills and such, making my spot as inviting as possible for myself.

In addition, I had plans for one child to live with me this summer, due to a serious shift, they chose not too. And one child who had not planned to live with me, does. It was a turn of events that has worked out, but not anticipated earlier on in the year. Now I love these two deeply and even though it has been a change in dynamics, I believe in both cases, our relationships are solid and close and I love them both fiercely. I have another child whom I love deeply as well in my tilt-a-world life right now, though she is nearly completely grown up. My kids, in particular, my girls, give me journals, ask when I'm going to finish my book and in general, all three are big supporters of all things written by me. I guess as they give me permission to write, real, I give them permission to not read it. Ever. Or perhaps I will write under a suedo name (to be determined...).

Another bit of feeling off-balanced was due in part because I was seeing a man whom I met through a friend on Facebook. We started innocently on a bike ride, to hang out and have fun. Due to an entire host of reasons that are personal, it was very clear to me, even though I really cared for this man, we needed to break up. It was the right thing to do. And as he and I have since discussed, I just don't like the outcome that followed. Not one bit. He has confirmed to me on at least three occasions it was the absolutely right decision and he has no desire to date. Even though we did. And that hurts too. But I agree. And I miss him. He was my friend. He was my fellow foodie. He brought me soup when I was sick, fixed my broken claw foot tub thingamajig, put together my broken bike tool and he re-calibrated my oven's temperature. He helped me figure out the safest route to commute by bike to work. He did not get mad when I fell asleep at a night concert, despite liking the music, because the 5:00am swim workout did me in. He taught me to see the beauty of yoga as a strengthening portion of my week and triathlon training as an important part in the recovery of my broken ankle. He was my biggest encourager to go to Ireland on a solo trip this spring, my first out of the country excursion and far outside of my comfort zone. Still, as much as I like, no love, this man, and I do, there were a number of times in my heart I felt sad or knew it wasn't right to continue seeing one another. We still talk, and in time, I would venture to say we will be friends, even spending time together doing things. For now, it makes me sad and hurts inside and my heart is a little broken. It needs to heal a wee bit more and I do too.

I also have two male friends. As happens, they have both met women who seem perfect for them. In fact, I really like both girlfriends and as couples, their relationships seem to bring out the best in these men. As their lives grow busier, I spend little, if any, time with them. So although it's perfectly normal and understandable, it is still a loss of sorts. One was a running partner and the other was a biking one. They could not be more polar opposites as human beings so their friendships filled very separate roles. I'm happy for them but certainly fill the voids without them nearby.  How do you write about that? I guess I just did.

A few years ago I started seeing a counselor because as a single parent I liked being able to talk about my worries or concerns and get  an unbiased take on the situations we discussed. We also talked about my dating life, my work and such.  I benefitted from our once-in-a-while visits. But she is leaving the practice and so this relationship must also end.

Another relationship that has ended is the one I had with my writing group. It's mostly my fault. I was undependable. And that is not normally how I operate. My attendance was spotty at best the past year. First I was training for my first and only Ironman race last summer. Sunday nights were unusually difficult to motivate myself to attend our meetings after my longest training day. Sometimes we'd swim a mile or two, ride six to eight hours and possibly run as well. I was plumb-tuckered out. Just before my race, I broke my ankle. I couldn't drive at first, then I was on crutches and out of work for six weeks. When I did go back to work, I started slowly, building up my stamina. The monthly writing get-togethers were even more difficult to attend and once I recovered physically, at least enough to drive, mentally I struggled with feeling sad. Being hurt and in pain took a lot out of me. My writing tank was empty because it was all spent just making it through the week... though I have nearly a half dozen blog entries in my draft bin, I never published them during this bleak time.  I've slowly reclaimed pieces of my body through physical therapy and exercise, sometimes pushing too hard with an overly zealous physical therapist. This led to a few set-backs, and led to some further lessons I needed to learn about my body; to trust my intuition, incorporate activities I love, and give priority to healing and recovery now so I can have years of future activities with a full range of mobility.

The writing group had a heart-to-heart email exchange last fall, about the time of my injury and recovery and everyone who committed to continue was going to be required to become better about attendance. What followed this agreement was a series of events coupled with bad timing: in January my daughter could only come to visit when it was our day to meet, February was my other daughter's birthday, March I decided to put my dating life first as I was trying to make that a bigger priority with Facebook man, April I was in Ireland and in May was when Facebook man and I broke up and I had already committed to go on a bike ride with people months earlier, in June it was the end of the year and report cards and summer school starting all in one week and in July even I was questioning my commitment. In August I had finally decided I was ready to jump-in and start anew and received a polite we'll be happy to see you but perhaps you should find another group closer to home as you've only attended one or two meetings all year long from one member. It hurt but she was right. I found their writing inspiring and enjoyed their insights and suggestions and they gave me permission to write some of the stories that I am actually most proud of...though the content is somewhat mortifying, it is, after all my true, unabridged stupid experiences. But clearly that writing group won't work due to the distance and the day of the week and I will miss them (well, perhaps not the one that wrote that email....).

And in a twist of irony the day after I got the polite good-bye from my writing group and had my worst first day of teaching of my life, I received my second check in the mail for writing and editing. It's from a former schoolmate of mine. He wrote me a few months back, telling me he enjoyed reading my stories and was hoping I could help him with a blog he was beginning. I felt unqualified as I know nothing of the content and subject matter. He was kind and asked if we could try. I have enjoyed our collaborative exchanges. It is confirming to have people who see me as a writer.

Mostly there are people who will write me a quick email when I've written a story or blog posting, telling me how they could relate or why it touched them. These are people from my childhood, readers from the town blog, members from my fitness teams and my  co-workers who are avid readers, and one of my biggest sources of encouragement. The other is my former principal, whom I love. She was the one who read about the writing group in the newspaper so many years ago and thought of me. She continually asks when my book will be finished.

I have been stuck in my writing life. It is only as I have come to realize that I have permission to write my stories and not worry about everyone else in my life and their reactions that I feel myself becoming unstuck. I've struggled because of a physical challenge, an emotional one and in matters of the heart. But I am ready to move forward.

What is it that has pushed me to move forward? The injury and comeback? No. The renewal to recreate my teaching practice? No. The break-up? The kids? The email? No. No. No.  It is because I am not a quitter. I stay the course. I will be an example for my kids of regrouping and reinvention. And related to my dating life, I will do as the commander in Star Wars said to Luke as he was trying to fly straight and shoot accurately to save the Empire, "Stay on target."

I'm going to try to be brave and become unstuck. I vow to renew my commitment to the craft of writing with my time. I don't know whether it will be in a group setting, on my own, in a class, getting a writing mentor, through this blog or another avenue.

I do know this, I have a story to tell. Yes, I do.