Divorce and Christmas: A Different View

I know that my experience with divorce is unique, and many people can't go about the decisions of how to spend holidays like we did. I hope anyone who reads this only finds hope and possibly inspiration from this post. 

Another Christmas has come and gone. For the second year since our separation, David and I have spent a good portion of Christmas day together.

I know a lot of people that either cannot fathom spending this holiday with their ex, or they see no benefit in forcing that togetherness. Sometimes I wish I was one of those people, trust me. But I am not other people, and I've always dealt with our situation in my own unique way.

Last Christmas was our first as a separated couple. As in, we had both been living in our own places for most of the year, and were discussing what the next step would be in pursuit of divorce. There was no talk of reconcilliation. We were only taking our time because we were mulling over whether we wanted to deal with selling the house first before filing.

So when talk of Christmas eve and Christmas day plans came up, it seemed that all of our family traditions we'd created thus far were defunct and no longer plausible.

At least, to a less determined person than I, they would have been.

I've spent the last two years trying to prove that divorce does not have to be chaotic and fraught with despair and anger. Just because I could no longer stay married to David did not mean he was not the father of my child. If I could conduct myself through this separation and divorce with decorum and respect for him because of that fact, why couldn't I do so during the biggest holiday for our family?

As discussions of Christmas plans arose, I realized that just as with everything else that's happened during this transition time, I didn't feel the need to go along the expected soon-to-be-a-divorced-parent path. Why should one of us miss out on Christmas morning with our son every other year? I certainly didn't want to miss the precious few years I had left with Gabriel splitting Christmas morning with David bi-yearly if I didn't have to. So I proposed we do Christmas eve and Christmas morning together.

We agreed going out to dinner with David's sister and her family was a great alternative to our previous Christmas eve family party tradition. It was neutral, and still something we could all enjoy. It also meant we could go back to our own houses for the night. We also agreed to do Christmas morning at my house, so Gabriel spent the night with me. The idea was that once Gabriel woke up, we'd call David to come over, and we'd wait for him. Boy, was that an exercise of patience for both Gabriel and myself! I lost count of the number of times I said, "Your dad is going to be here any minute! Put that present down!" But David lived close, so it didn't take long for him to arrive.

We exchanged gifts, and David and I both got to enjoy the excited delight Gabriel showed exploring the contents of his stocking and opening his presents. We had both also taken Gabriel shopping for each other, so that we could continue teaching Gabriel to enjoy giving as well as receiving. Gabriel was able to present both Mom and Dad with his gifts, and see us open them with joy. I made breakfast and we watched the Disney Christmas special as Gabriel played with his new loot.

It might have been a little uncomfortable, I won't lie. Of course the fact that we were separated and pursuing divorce was floating in the recesses of both our minds. Was I ready for a break after breakfast was done? Yes, I was.

But there's reasons for why I did it, both selfish and not. I don't think its fair to divorced parents to have to miss out on their children's holiday joys. My mom enjoyed the Christmas season so much, and it broke her heart every other year when she couldn't spend Christmas with me. David and I have very few years left with Gabriel as a child, and I don't want either of us to miss out. But more importantly, if I can't teach Gabriel what a successful marriage looks like, I am going to show him to the best of my ability how to handle divorce or a break up in as healthy a way as possible. More than that, I can teach him that even if we lose romantic love for someone, they can still be our family. And I've always taught Gabriel that family, whether by blood or by choice, is incredibly important.

As part of the Christmas plans, we agreed Gabriel would go with David to his family's for dinner, since my family does their Christmas celebration the week before. I even stopped by his family's house to say "hi" to everyone, and I was welcomed with open arms. I didn't stay longer than an hour, but Gabriel was excited to see me there, and David's family was able to witness firsthand how well David and I were dealing with our situation. Gabriel then spent the night with me, because it was my night according to the normal schedule.

Fast forward a year later.

This has been quite a year for David and I. We spent the first half of it prepping the house in order to place it on the market. It sold in a frenzy over the course of a weekend. Then we worked together to get moved into our separate new places that allowed us to keep Gabriel in the same school, and within walking distance. It still took me until October to file for divorce.

I could try saying none of the past year would have worked if I hadn't continually pushed for us to work together. It wouldn't matter how much I pushed, if David hadn't been amenable to us doing so. It's so difficult, I know, to not let emotions cloud our judgement and force our actions. It takes a lot of self discipline and redirecting back to the course we'd set for ourselves, by both of us.

This Christmas went the same as last year's. With the exception being that we had a small Christmas eve get-together at a mutual friend's house, and we did Christmas morning at David's place instead of mine. I am happy to report it was just as successful as last year, even with the added knowledge that we have officially filed for divorce. I took Gabriel shopping for his dad's gifts, and this year I even made Gabriel wrap the presents himself. (He could use some additional practice in wrapping, I'm just saying.) David did the same.

I may have had some melancholy moments this holiday season, but it was more due to the knowledge that I crave my own holiday traditions, new and old, and during this transition period it is hard to create those. My mom instilled in me the desire to embrace the holiday season and all its' magic. My decision to pursue divorce did not cancel out the fact that I've always enjoyed creating the holiday experience not just for Gabriel, but for my family. I'd like the opportunity to light up someone special again with Christmas cheer and magic. All in good time, I know.

So tonight, I settle into the feeling of peace that my son's life is the best David and I can make it. We are by no means perfect, and we are learning how to do this as we go. Which means we are staying flexible. Even when it comes to Christmas morning. And that's all I could truly hope for, and what I will continue to strive for in coming years.

The Direction of My Magnetic Pull

My compass does not point due north. You will never know in which direction I orient myself on any given day...unless you move closer...closer.

If I shatter into a myriad of pieces, don't think of me as broken, damaged. This is my reset. My growth. My becoming more. I will reach out with my roots, and plant myself more firmly.

My heart yearns for truthful moments, for authenticity. In the world around me. In myself. You can't fool the wind. It will move through you, around you, make you shed your masks. Yes, this is what I yearn for.

My path is not straight. I cannot see around the bend. But I am more frightened of standing still than I will ever be of moving forward blindly.

When did we get so afraid of the wind, as it pulses through our hair, and moves us towards the edge? I can sway with the tree limbs, rustle with the leaves. I trust my roots. I won't blow away.

You lean into me, as the furthest tree branch reaches and leans towards the sunlight. Inching ever closer. That is where you belong.

Do you wish for the freedom of flight? So do I. In my arms you can fly on those winds. Just as I can expand and contract with you surrounding me. We will always know where home is, no matter how far we travel. We will always know where my body ends and yours begins, and we relish the feel of the perfect fit and the perfect separation.

My compass will not lead you in a straight line. But trust that it will always lead you home. Take my hand. See for yourself how I orient myself...here...now.

Winnie-the-Pooh said "How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard." Pooh Bear, you're a wise fellow.

People come and go in our lives, sometimes leaving barely a ripple in the pond, sometimes causing a crashing white-capped wave to wash over us, leaving our landscape soaked, but infinitely changed. There are certain people we meet for a reason, whether its to shake us up, or ground us in some fashion.

Rachael was one of these catalysts in my life. 

We met at work, and bonded over a shared love of theater productions. I found a kindred spirit in the woman sitting across from me, as we laughed and talked over Stellas and sushi. 

Female friendships are varied and every one is unique. Because of the nature of our emotions, its not always easy to find a deeper connection with another woman, a connection that is far richer than that of a shopping, gossiping or partying relationship. 

But really, it took an emotionally challenging, draining event for Rachael and I to find that connection, and decide it was worth something. 

Over the years Rachael and I have supported each other, laughed, cried, and ranted with each other. 

I have never met anyone so young who had such a vast life story already. She feels deeply, with passion and exuberance. If I had known her during the formative years of young adulthood, I have a distinct feeling my life would be very different right now. 

Speaking of passion...passion is a heady thing. Whether it is for art, humanity, ecology, religion, it doesn't matter. If you can find your passion, and yes you can have more than one, you open up your existence to so many more possibilities! 

Rachael and I have always had one important thing in common: we both believed in living our passion, and in living wholeheartedly and with abandon. Hers was a passion for art in general, and acting in particular. Mine was also for art in general, and writing in particular. If I could have one wish in this world, this minute it would be that everyone had a true friend who could dream big, dream EXPANSIVELY with them. It is an inspiring thing, to work towards living your passion, alongside someone who believes emphatically that you both can do it.

Alas, we have now reached a crossroads in time. Rachael's journey is taking her away, not forever, but if she has anything to do with it, she probably won't be a permanent resident of the Sacramento area ever again. I couldn't be more proud of her if she were my kid, my sister, or my childhood friend. And as this epoch of our life comes to a close, a new moment in time blazes before us. And i want to send her off smiling, full of hope and determination. So Rachael, this new piece is for you:

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She didn't listen to their little ideas. Their minds couldn't comprehend an enormity of spirit such as hers.

They wanted to place her in a decoupage box, plastered with cut up pictures of "should" and "can't" and "don't."

They didn't know she'd already branded herself, tattooed every inch of her skin with "what if" and "why not." She'd weaved "possible" into the mahogany strands of her hair, and painted "passion" onto her fingers and toes. 

She swallowed "failure" every evening at dinner, and savored the taste...she knew she could not conquer what she did not know intimately. 

They watched her walk, swaying hips that did not twitch at their disbelief, and thought she would surely stumble.

As they watched her, they thought they knew what the future held. They read it in the lines of her neck, as she looked down the empty road, and in the footsteps she left in the mud. 

They watched...and watched...and watched...

And never once did they notice that all they watched was the path she'd left, and never turned their eyes to the path she took, a path that stretched to the horizon, like the sweep of her eyelashes as they rested on her cheek, never-ending.

But that's okay. They had little ideas. Their minds couldn't comprehend an enormity of spirit such as hers.

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I won't say good luck, Rachael, because someone with as much determination as you doesn't need it. I won't say good-bye, because I'll see you very soon. I won't say I'll miss you, because that word doesn't do justice the hole you'll leave behind. What I will say is thank you. Thank you for being my inspiration, and for being a fellow student in learning to live wholeheartedly, and for believing I could come as far as I have in my life. I will be sending you positivity and light and love from here, as I know you will be doing for me from where you'll be. Love you dearest.

Hiking Alone

Hiking alone is a particular kind of assertion of independence. You are telling nature you respect it, but you don’t need any kind of barrier or buffer between you. You are not afraid to be lost. When you hike alone, you can let your eyes wander to discover what you’ve never paid attention to before. As you pass the time, you are forced to be alone with your thoughts, regardless of whether you like those thoughts or not. Awareness is more tuned in, since safety must be top priority. But a side effect of being hyperaware of the people around you is that you are on the receiving end of smiles, hellos, and waves that you may not have received otherwise.

As you travel deeper, you meet fewer people, and the quietness settles in. You begin to wonder if you are the only human being left on this trail, by this river, in this town, on this planet. You get a little jolt of adrenaline when you do pass someone, and you question where in the world he or she came from? Did they start on one side of the continent and you on the other side, and this is the crossroads that has allowed the only two humans left on the planet to meet for a fraction of a moment? 

If you’re like me, you seek out water whenever possible on these adventures. Water is serenity, life. It not only sustains your body, it refreshes your spirit. If you hear it rushing, trickling, splashing, you swiftly search for the source. If you’d been with someone, you might’ve missed the small mossy alcove of rocks and branches, a stream gurgling happily amongst the crevasses and wood. Streams that cross the trail can be forged with a purposeful leap, and an ability to laugh at yourself when you miss and fall in.

So many things are more noticeable alone. The lizard sunning himself on the rock near you as you sit and listen to the river current. The pop of fuchsia in a sea of green and brown forest. Two butterflies twirling and twining around each other, playing in the wind eddies, joyful in their flight and togetherness. The echoes that bounce off canyon walls and the surface of the water. The feel of your feet climbing the trail, rocks tumbling with each step, the dirt sliding in the damp shadows.

In the end, coming back to the trailhead is truly coming back to reality, coming back to the world. As you get closer, you begin to remember you are not the only person on this trail, in this town, on this planet, and you have a life outside of these woods. As you head back to civilization, the cacophony of sounds can be deafening, and you find yourself already planning your next hike, your next sojourn into the place where the rest of the world doesn’t exist. You are not a hermit; you enjoy the company of your friends and family immensely, and hiking with friends has its own charm and sparkle. But hiking alone becomes a blessing and a need, and you make plans to do it as often as you can.