I’ve put this post off long enough. I’m turning 40 in about two weeks. 40.

Remember when 30 seemed ancient?! My mother-in-law was 40 when I met my husband. She didn’t seem old to me but she certainly didn’t seem young. She seemed like any other mom. Today she’s 64. For me, those 24 years seem to have flown by in a flash. We spend our entire childhood wishing time would speed up and our adult years wishing it would slow down. It’s so….well, weird.

I actually already wrote the I’m-dreading-turning-40 post. Last year. As I said then, I like to start the inevitable panic attack as early as possible. I think that it helped writing about it a year in advance. I think I may have actually come to terms with it. With everything that I feel anxious about just about every day, this milestone isn’t really one of them. Or maybe I’m just in denial. I guess we’ll find out for sure in about two weeks.

As much as I really don’t want to seem like any other mom, I’m sure I do to my kids and their friends. I think my kids think I’m pretty cool as far as moms go, but still, I’m mom. Of course I relish my role as their mom but as is the main theme of this blog….I am also so much more than a mom. Knowing that helps me to ignore the number of candles on the birthday cake.

It seems to me that beginning with that first unfortunate event in December 2006 and ending with the most recent unfortunate event almost exactly three years later, I’ve come full circle. The death of my friend’s mother in 2006 forced me to consider my own mortality. That, in conjunction with the events in between these two pulled me out of denial, made me re-evaluate myself, my marriage, every belief I have ever had and what the hell I had allowed myself to become. The past three years have been spent dealing with the past, learning, questioning, stepping out of my comfort zone, reinventing myself, reinventing my marriage and striving to figure out who I am and who I want to be. And then going for it. I have set-backs and then take giant leaps forward. All of these changes have cured my insomnia but brought on depression, at first, and now anxiety. I’m not finished with my journey and I never will be. The reason I feel I’ve come full circle is that the most recent unfortunate event, Gina’s death, has forced me to seriously consider not my own mortality this time, but the mortality of everyone I love.

After the ups and downs of the past three years I don’t find myself dreading my 40th birthday so much. I find myself feeling grateful that I’ve made it to my 40th birthday in good health (knock on wood). I’m grateful that my friends and family are also here and in good health. Money problems, anxiety, college, work, laundry….life…they’re all part of my life but the important people in my life are really what matters most. I’m lucky. I’m still here with them.

Forty isn’t that old. I’m not too old to love, laugh, learn, travel, go to college, have fun, make changes, be naughty, be a good mom and wife, work out…the list is endless. I have lots to do. The only things I’m too old wise for are living in denial, wishful thinking, delusion and pretending to be someone I’m not. I’m not 21. Who cares? I was a moron at 21. I’m slightly less of one now and for that, and every day I am given, I am grateful. So…40? I’m not scared…Bring it!

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A few posts ago I crowned 2007 as the worst year of my adult life thus far. I went so far as to write that I couldn’t think of a single good thing to say about 2007. I’ve been thinking about that ever since I wrote it. There must have been at least one good thing that happened in 2007. In doing so I have come up with two good things that happened in 2007. Not little things either. BIG things. And in reminding myself of these things I have also proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that money does not buy happiness and attaining your fitness goals does not provide happiness either.

Many people, particularly those of us who grew up in abusive households, spend significant amounts of time looking to the future and telling ourselves, “I’ll be happy if….”. This happens when our lives are so painful and we are so powerless that we just can’t wait to grow up and escape. It’s a necessary coping mechanism. It provides hope in a seemingly hopeless situation. The problem is that it doesn’t just go away after we grow up and escape the abuse. By then the thought process that happiness can be attained only if….something happens in the future…is firmly entrenched in our psyche. We are always looking forward to something that we believe needs to occur before we will feel happy.

Our media perpetuates this thinking. How many advertisements are we bombarded with every day indicating that our lives will be better if we buy some car, drink some beverage, lose weight, make more money, etc.?

I did it myself. If only I could grow up and move out. If only my boyfriend would propose. If only I were married. If only I had kids. If only I could make more money. If only I were thin. If only….

Guess what those two good things were in 2007.

I lost a significant amount of weight. I was a size six. I wasn’t supermodel thin but I was as close to perfect (for me) physically as I had ever been in my life. I did enjoy it. I enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment. I enjoyed the increased male attention. I enjoyed the fun clothes. I enjoyed feeling attractive and sexy. I even enjoyed the process of working out itself. It made me feel powerful and was also an incredible and healthy way to blow off steam, reduce stress and channel anger and other negative feelings.

I also made more money in 2007 than in any previous (or future) year. I’m not talking about buying-a-yacht money. I am talking about extremely comfortable money. We never had to worry about any bills. All emergencies were taken care of easily. Spending money on just about anything we wanted was not an issue. I had a full time babysitter who also cleaned the house and did our laundry every week. I bought designer clothes, purses and shoes without blinking an eye whenever I wanted. Pedicures, massages, weekend trips….whatever we wanted. It was all good.

So, I had attained my two biggest I’ll Be Happy Ifs. I was not happy. Not by any stretch of the imagination. In fact I was completely and utterly miserable. I had extreme insomnia, sometimes sleeping for a total of an hour or two in 10-15 minute spurts for months on end. I had an almost constant knot in my stomach. I started crying, and I mean sobbing, for no apparent reason. I was a mess. I couldn’t figure out what my problem was but I was so close to a complete breakdown that I started to actually think I may be crazy. As in call the men in white coats crazy.

I got myself into therapy in October of that year. I started to figure out why I was so profoundly unhappy. I started to get my act together and take charge of my life. I started to realize how I had been fooling myself for 37 years and how unhealthy many of my thought processes were.

Over two years later I’m still learning. This for instance. I only realized after I wrote about how awful 2007 was and remembered that was the same year as my weight loss and all that money that the I’ll-be-happy-if-thing is self destructive and flawed thinking. Despite what we tell ourselves and what the media tells us, I am living proof that we will not necessarily be happy if….we attain that next best thing.

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It’s been over 24 hours since I’ve seen Gina. I find myself feeling more and more anger, sadness, guilt and sheer terror. I can’t seem to focus in on any one thought or feeling for very long. It’s all a jumbled mess, as I’m sure this post will be. I apologize in advance.

Continuum by John Mayer is my go-to album when I’m headed over that cliff leading to the dark side. As a result, I had to listen to it. Over and over. I also simply had to get rid of the horrific song that has been running through my head ever since Friday. Seasons In The Sun by Terry Jacks. I’ve always hated that song. It was released in 1974, when I was four years old. I must have heard it and understood it’s meaning at a young age. I cannot for the life of me figure out when I last heard it though. It has to have been years. I intentionally change the radio station on the rare occasion that it’s played. But there it was, running through my head for the better part of the past 3 days. It had to be replaced.

I finally settled on The Heart Of Life. It’s sad and hopeful at the same time. That’s where I’d like to be right now. I understand that it’s ok for me to feel profoundly sad about my friend and about my loss and her family’s loss. I also understand that life goes on. At least for the rest of us.

I’ve lived my whole life avoiding the dark side. I’ve self-medicated with alcohol, nicotine, food and other distractions. Over the past two years I’ve been working hard on living a more authentic life. I’m still learning how to recognize my feelings and deal with them in a more healthy way. What that means to me is to live in the moment. Experience whatever I’m experiencing. Acknowledge the feelings that come up. Allow myself to feel those feelings. Stop running. Stop hiding. Stop stuffing them and ignoring them and just….be.

I’ve been doing a fairly good job and making progress. Until now. I’m petrified to give in and allow myself to feel what is bubbling up under the surface. If I jump off that cliff and go to the dark side, what if I can’t get back? I’ve been to the dark side over much less upsetting things than the imminent death of one of my closest friends. It feels awful. At times it’s literally been debilitating.

I do have more resources now than I did then. I know more. I’ve returned from the dark side with lessons learned. I’ve changed a lot as a result. It still scares the hell out of me.

The only other person in my life who has died was my father. That was fully expected and a long time coming. I’ve lost distant relatives too. None of that compares to this.

I was shopping today for Thanksgiving items and it just seemed so absurd. How can I be buying pies and stuffing and shrimp trays when Gina is dying? It felt awful, as if I were betraying her. As if I wasn’t taking it seriously enough. I don’t know how I’m supposed to function at work this week. I have to do it. There’s no getting out of it. All I really want to do is camp out in her hospital room and hold on for dear life. I don’t want to leave her alone. I know she isn’t really alone, her family is there. I just want to be there too. I don’t want to let go.

When I think of her daughters I want to scream. It’s so fucking unfair that this amazing woman and mother is being taken from them. Death is never fair or even convenient but they’re just kids. Her husband, her mother, her sister and brother, her grandmother. Fuck. Her grandmother should not have to watch her granddaughter die anymore than her husband should have to watch his 40 year old wife die.

Then after bitching and whining about all this I feel selfish for having my own little pity party when so many other people’s lives are being affected in many more life-changing ways than my own. Especially Gina herself.

The dark side is calling. I think I need to just go and get it over with. I’m bringing John Mayer with me. I’ll be back.

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Oh but if I take my heart’s advice I should assume it’s still unsteady

Oh I’m never really ready, I’m never really ready

I’m in repair, I’m not together but I’m getting there”

- “In Repair” by John Mayer

Today, November 3rd would have been his 72nd birthday. The 10 year anniversary of his death was last month. We received a piece of junk mail addressed to him today. He never lived here. We bought this house 2 years after he died.

Ten years. It seems like a lifetime ago.

I don’t believe one of the things I said in last year’s post. I know I believed it at the time.

“I forgave him and grieved for my lost childhood a long time ago.”

No. That’s simply not true. I have never grieved for him or my lost childhood. It’s too much. Whenever I come even close to wrapping my brain around any of the emotions that surface when thinking of him I have to back away. The many forms of abuse I endured when he was healthy are so complicated and so much a part of my identity that I have to deal with my recollections in small doses.

I’m not even sure how to go about grieving for him. It’s so surreal, losing a parent. The hospice nurses told me that it’s actually more difficult for children who lose parents with whom they had a less than loving relationship. They warned me that I may not grieve at all but that somewhere down the road, “maybe even 10 years from now”, it will hit me, and hit hard.

I moved out just as he was beginning to get really sick. After I moved out I mostly only saw him at the occasional obligatory holiday and the seemingly endless emergency hospital visits and eventually in the nursing home. My only memories of him as an adult revolved around pretending everything was normal and his illness. That’s it.

I think that’s why it’s been easier for me to reconcile my relationship with my mother. She’s still here (thank God…or whoever). I never got to know him as a healthy adult.

I wonder how different my life would be if he were still here and healthy. I wonder how he’d have treated my sons. I wonder how he’d have treated me. I’ll never know.

I have to deal with all these conflicting feelings at some point. It’s obvious that avoiding them has caused most of my problems, especially my weight and body image issues, my anxiety and my trust issues. It’s just so overwhelming that I’m not sure when I’ll be able to do it. I’m in repair. I hope wherever he is, he is too.

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I am officially and publicly rededicating myself to changing many thoughts and behaviors that I had vowed to change but have slipped back into old patterns from time to time. These are things that I know are right for me. They may not be right for anyone else and that’s ok. In no particular order, mine are….

• I will not allow myself to be manipulated or manipulate others.
• I will use direct communication to ask for what I want or need from others.
• I will judge others. I will judge myself too. Much lip-service is being paid these days to being non-judgmental. It’s human nature. We all make judgments every single day. They help us decide what is best for us. These judgments can be flexible and knowing that, I will continue to question and challenge my own judgments about others and about myself regularly.
• I will be assertive. I will recognize the difference between assertion and aggression.
• I will speak freely in my life and on my blog. No fear. My opinions and judgments are my own. Others can disagree and have every right to express their opinions. However, I have no less right to express mine just because others don’t agree with them.
• I will remember that my own opinions about myself, my life and anything else are more important to me than those of others.
• I will allow myself to express emotions. The good, the bad and the ugly. I will cry when I am sad. I will not be afraid of my feelings. They are mine and are only harmful to me when I stuff them. The fear of sinking into a deep dark pit of despair causes more anxiety than the emotions themselves.
• I will trust my own instincts, regardless of what others believe.
• I will face my fears and overcome them.
• I will not engage in arguments, debates or conversations with people who are unreasonable, manipulative or simply out to perpetuate their own false image.
• I will stand up for myself when I feel someone is attempting to take advantage of me.
• I will admit when I am wrong.
• I will not apologize for anything I didn’t do.
• I will not doubt myself when I am wrongfully accused of doing anything I did not do.
• I will not accept others’ opinions of me, my words or my actions when I recognize that they are false.
• I will say what I mean. I will not sugar-coat the truth when it is important that the truth be heard.
• I am not obligated to explain my decisions or beliefs to anyone. If an explanation is requested, I may choose to give one but I owe no one.

I think that’s enough for today. I’m sure I’ll think of more. If anyone wants to join me by adding their own personal statements in the comments section, feel free. I may have missed a few of my own and be inspired by yours.

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self-aware:  adj. Aware of oneself, including one’s traits, feelings, and behaviors.

After mentioning that I was in pursuit of becoming self-aware in a previous post, two readers (thank you Heather and Dawn!) commented that I should check out Byron Katie. I’ve been listening to her workshops here for the better part of the past 2 days (Thanks again Dawn!). It really is a revolutionary way of thinking and I’ve listened to several of her one-on-one workshops. Many have been obviously life changing for the individuals she is working with. Many have been painful to hear. Extremely painful.

I will not attempt to explain her work as I am a rookie, haven’t read any of her books yet and am still attempting to wrap my brain around it all myself.

Having said that, I have noticed that I find myself attempting to practice her work when I experience a thought, an internal belief or feeling. In some cases, when my belief (or “story” as she calls them) is only slightly painful or slightly annoying to me, it’s fairly easy to reframe my thinking and it absolutely does work in those cases.

Where I’m struggling is when my thoughts provoke a strong emotional reaction. I have to do the actual written work as explained on her site in order to find out if I can work out any of these deeper issues for myself. I haven’t taken the next step to even print out the questions. I’m afraid of what I will uncover.

In the meantime, October is National Breast Cancer Awareness month. What does that even mean? That we should be aware that breast cancer exists? Kills the women we love? Buy more cute pink products with ribbons on them? Or is it more about raising awareness about prevention, such as annual mammograms, frequent self-exams, etc.? I don’t know the answers to these questions.

I do know that I am acutely aware of breast cancer. My friend has been battling it for over 2 years. After countless rounds of chemo, a double mastectomy and significant dietary changes, it still came back and spread to her lungs. The next round of chemo worked for while, shrinking the tumors in her lungs. Then those tumors started growing again so a different round of chemo was started.

Two weeks ago her markers were elevated. At first she was devastated, explaining to me that it meant that her existing tumors had either grown or that the cancer had spread (again). A few days later she found out there could be other factors causing her markers to become elevated. We were both somewhat relieved.

She had her scans yesterday. I knew that she would have the results of the scans today. I asked her to call me as soon as she could once she got the results. Instead I got this text: “It has now spread to my liver.”. I gasped so loudly that my sick son who was sleeping downstairs, heard me and came upstairs to find out what was wrong. He thought I had hurt myself. He was right. Based on my limited knowledge of Byron Katie I understand that she teaches that our only suffering is caused by our own thoughts, our own attachments to beliefs that are not based in reality.

I can write about applying her work to my beliefs and feelings about my friend’s illness. I can’t actually apply it though. I can’t even deal with experiencing the emotions. I can’t even begin to fathom how my friend is dealing with her emotions. She doesn’t want to die. I don’t want her to die. Her children don’t want her die. Her husband, mother, sister, brother and other friends don’t want her to die. None of our wishing is going to make one bit of difference.

She is going to pursue a clinical trial for which she may or may not qualify. There are two possible options for this trial. One is in California and the other is in Pennsylvania (in the same state in which we spent our fabulous spa weekend just a few months ago). As of this afternoon she was waiting to hear back from both of them.

I can’t be aware, on any level, of her feelings, everything that’s running through her head. She’s 40 years old with a toddler and two teen-age twins. They need her. She needs to be there for them. I simply cannot yet apply the quote I chose for this post to her situation. I am attached to the thought that she doesn’t deserve this. That her family doesn’t deserve this. That I will be devastated if I lose my friend. I don’t know if or when I’ll be able to detach from those thoughts.

She and everyone who is close to her is now attached to the expectation that this clinical trial will work. It feels similar to gambling. You go in with high hopes for winning big. The odds are stacked against winning. On the other hand, we hear stories all the time of people beating all odds and making remarkable recoveries after their doctors had said they were all out of options.

All I know for sure is that I am aware that I love her. I am aware that I have not yet even begun to deal with the emotions I feel about her illness. I am aware that I want to be self-aware but am terrified to allow myself those feelings. I am aware that I will experience significant pain on that path. I am aware that my friend has already experienced, and continues to experience pain far more frightening and intense than mine. I am aware that my friend has breast cancer and that I don’t want to lose her. That’s all I can manage today. Which leads to the questions, how is she managing today? How is she supposed to like it and how will that make it easier for her?

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I’m happy to see how far I’ve come (and how far my marriage has come) in the past year but I can’t believe I was so self-involved that in the wee hours of the morning after the election of President Obama, this is what I chose to write about!

November 5, 2008:

“Who said nights were for sleep?” Marilyn Monroe

Yes, I know Obama won. I will probably post about that tomorrow but right now what is most important to me is the fact that it is 1:30am and I am still awake.

Ever had insomnia? It sucks.

It started in late 2006. At first, I’d occasionally have a hard time falling asleep. Then it progressively got worse…and worse…and worse…and worse. My lowest point was somewhere around March of 2007. I would literally go days without a decent hour of sleep, let alone an entire night. I had a difficult time falling asleep and if I was lucky enough to succeed at that, I would wake up repeatedly, or wake up and be unable to fall back to sleep. It was awful.

I went to my doctor. There was no medical reason for it. After she tried several different types of medications that either didn’t work at all or resulted in horrific side-effects, I realized I had a serious problem.

I started reading anything and everything I could get my hands on the subject and everything pointed to anxiety and/or depression. Yeah, I slept MUCH better after THAT revelation.

Turns out it was BOTH. Great. I tried helping myself by reading books and on-line about causes of anxiety and depression but I finally had to admit that I couldn’t do this on my own. I entered therapy.

About a month into it, another very calming realization…I was seriously unhappy in my marriage. After much drama and even less sleep, we started marriage counseling and separated. We were separated for 5 months. We are still in marriage counseling.

I’m happy to report that we are doing MUCH better and as a matter of fact, have a COMPLETELY different relationship then we had before. It’s funny how you don’t realize how miserable or dysfunctional a relationship is until it’s better. I believe that’s called DENIAL.

I’m also happy to report that my insomnia has greatly improved, but I still have some bad nights. Tonight is one of those nights.

And no, I’m not in denial about the fact that Marilyn wasn’t talking about insomnia!

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I actually like fall.  I love the whole back-to-school feeling.  You know, that feeling of starting over with a clean slate?  I love the smell of new school supplies.  I love the smell of burning leaves, pumpkin patches and apple orchards too.  Humans cannot make anything as beautiful as a landscape full of brightly colored trees that look all lit-up when the sun shines through the leaves.   Some friends and I used to take an annual weekend trip every fall.  Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays because there is nothing obligatory about it.  I love football.   I like the feel of soft cozy sweaters and thick, warm socks.  There are a lot of reasons I like fall.  There is only one reason i don’t love it;  winter always follows.

I hate winter.  It’s depressing.  It’s barren.  It’s bone-chillingly cold to the point where days go by without my feet ever truly warming up.  The days are short but the season is long.  Way too long for me.  Christmas is the one and only bright spot in this entire season.  I can appreciate the beauty of a quiet blanketing snowfall like anyone else.   Unfortunately, those always seem to occur when I’m on my way home from work , making them much less quiet and beautiful.

My favorite season, by far, is summer.  I do like spring but really only because it means summer is finally on it’s way.  This year, we were ripped off.  Our summer was short and not particularly hot.  It already feels more like October than August.  Life isn’t fair, I know, but how about a little global warming for us here in Chicagoland, huh?!

When I think about winter approaching, I feel profoundly sad.  To me, winter is just a 5 (if we’re lucky) to 7 (if we’re not) month period of time to be gotten through.  Similar to a root canal or blood test.  It’s a nasty, bitter time of year during which I just have to suck it up and wait it out.  Every.  Single.  Year.

This leads to the obvious question.  Why the hell do I still live here?  There are many reasons.  The primary reason is the people that are here.  I moved to this area when I was ten years old.  When I was eight years old, we moved away from our extended family, never to return to that state.  We lived in upstate New York for two years and then landed here for good.  I remember the two moves and how much I hated them.  I hated leaving people behind.  When we moved here from New York I swore I’d move back there as soon as I turned 18.  That didn’t happen because by then I had all but forgotten the people I left there and couldn’t have parted with the people I knew here.  Well that, and I was broke and had lost any desire to live in New York.

I am extremely attached to my friends, family and even acquaintences here.  The idea of living in a different town, let alone state, from my sister is unfathomable.  I’m not kidding.  We’ve never lived more than just a few miles apart.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.  I like the idea that there is a strong possibility of running into someone I know at any major event in the Chicagoland area.  It’s home.

So, why does my home have to be invaded by an ice age every single year, huh?!  Why couldn’t my parents have gone to San Diego after New York?!  No such luck.

I also love the idea that my kids don’t remember any other home but the one we live in now.  We moved here when they were one and three years old, respectively.  My sixth grader is going to school with kids he played t-ball with when he was four.  I like it that way.  Maybe I like it because I hated moving so much as a kid.  I hated being the “new girl” and having to prove myself to a new group of kids twice in two years.  I like stability and I want it for my kids.

Hubby and I can’t agree on where we would move.  He hates winter too, although not as much as I do.  He says he does but he still goes to Bears games in December.  I would never even consider it, even though I love the Bears.  He wants no part of a coast.  He doesn’t want to have to worry about hurricanes or tsunamis or being wiped off the face of the earth if the ocean chooses to stop cooperating with us.  That’s a big problem.  I love the ocean.  I see no point in moving to somewhere warm if we’re not on, or very near, the ocean.  I want to hear it, smell it and see it regularly.  I want the sound of it to lull me to sleep every night.  I want to take long walks on the beach.  He hates sand.  That’s pretty much how all conversations about moving between us end.

We may end up moving someday, who knows.  In the meantime, I’ve taken it upon myself to make up a new word to describe my mood now that I realize that another Chicago winter is just around the corner and I will be in it.  Fallancholy.  It’s meaning is self-evident.  I guess there is one good thing about winter though…there’s a lot more time to read!

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If I have covered this already AND you have read it, then I apologize in advance.  I don’t believe I have ever written about the timeline or details of the series of unfortunate events that led to what I now refer to as my mid-life crisis.  I’m certain I’ve mentioned a few of them in different posts but never put them all together.  Again, if I’m wrong, and have gone all senile about my own blog like a complete moron, I apologize in advance.  If not… read on. 

1.  The mother of a close friend died suddenly a few days before Christmas of 2006 ~ Although I am close to my friend, I didn’t know his mom all that well but her death stayed with me for a long time.  I couldn’t shake the overall feeling of sadness, even weeks after her funeral.  I remember being baffled about this at the time.  I even spoke to another friend’s poor parents (actually it was the newly ordained deacon and his wife that I recently wrote about) about it when I stopped by their house just to run in to pick something up.  Boy, did they not know what they were in for that day!  They truly are lovely and amazing people.  At the time, I chalked it up to feeling so badly for my friend because her death was sudden and literally just days before Christmas.  I now know it was partially sadness for my friend but was also the first time I really pondered my own mortality.  The first time it really sank in that I am aging and will not live forever. 

2.  The sub-prime mortgage industry eventual complete melt-down became apparent and wide-spread, also in December of 2006 ~ I wasn’t working for a sub-prime lender.  However, the seemingly daily news of another lender suddenly ceasing all operations went from, “Look who else is going down and we’re still riding high”, to “Shit.  This is going to be all bad for all of us.”.  The fed was still claiming this problem was contained to the sub-prime arm of the industry but for those of us in the trenches, we knew that barring some miracle, the writing was on the wall for everyone. 

3.  I went on a business trip in January of 2007~ We had our annual sales conference in San Diego where our parent company was assuring us we were “in it for the long haul” but we weren’t convinced.  In the meantime, we partied like frat boys, had a blast staying up late getting bombed and then up at 6am for day-long meetings.  I hadn’t behaved like such a juvenile in many many years and this trip made me remember that I do love to have fun.  It made me realize that I had completely shut off that part of my identity when I became a mom.  This ridiculous long weekend of debauchery is what led me to begin to re-evaluate myself, my choices, my whole life, and most likely led to the theme of this blog too.

4.  My friend Gina was diagnosed with breast cancer~ When she first told me about the lump, I wasn’t concerned at all.  I’ve had them.  I’ve known many women who have.  They usually turn out to be fibroids, infections or easily removable and virtually harmless cysts.  I’ve even known women with breast cancer who had a lumpectomy and some radiation and went on with their lives.  Gina’s actual diagnosis turned out to be the worst possible case scenario in a breast cancer diagnosis.  This not only made me extremely sad for my friend, her family and forced me to consider what life would be like without her.  It also made come face to face with my own mortality again.

5.  Hubby got laid off from his job in May of 2007  ~ He had been struggling career-wise for a couple of years and due to cutbacks, was laid off on a Friday.  That in itself wouldn’t have been huge since I still had my high paying job with excellent benefits, but when combined with #6…..

6.  Two days after being laid off, hubby tore both ACLs~ His dream back in the day had been to be a police officer.  For whatever reason, that never worked out.  He decided to give it one last shot before he was officially over the maximum age limit and test for a county sheriff’s department.  The physical portion of the test took place on the Sunday after he was laid off.  He landed wrong after successfully scaling a 6-foot fence and tore both ACLs.  Football fans will know that tearing one ACL is, at least, a season ending injury.  ACLs cannot be repaired.  They must be replaced.  He didn’t tear his just a little.  Both were completely torn, along with a few other problems, such as his knee caps shifting without the ACLs there to hold them in place.  I consider this to be the straw that broke the camel’s back for my sanity.  He was completely helpless for several weeks.  He then had to have 2 different surgeries several months apart.  All told, he was down for the count for about 4 months.  No disability pay, since he had just lost his job 2 days before.

7.  The mortgage industry complete meltdown was inevitable by June of 2007 -  We knew the ax was going to fall at any moment.  Our company had consolidated offices.  We took on 5 other branches and, as the manager, got to see 1/2 my staff, chosen by the corporate office, lose their jobs.  I didn’t agree with some of the decisions but understood it was a business decision.   I felt horrible for the people that were laid off in this wave.  Many I had known and worked with for years.  I was already having difficulty sleeping for no apparent reason.  That escalated exponentially around this time.   With hubby out of commission and expensive medical treatments, that job was the only thing saving us.  I had to look at this as a lucky break for me.  I had no other choice.  It could just as easily have been me on the chopping block that day.

8.  The death knell for the mortgage industry came in August of 2007 ~ When Wall Street pulled out of purchasing mortgage loans, that was that.  We then knew it was just a matter of days before an announcement was made.  Unfortunately, we were right.  August 20, 2007 was when the announcement came.  I was out of a job.  Luckily, I needed to stay on through January of 2008 to shut down the office.  After that, a generous severance package.  However, no real prospects came along between August and January, since the vast majority of the industry was gone or almost gone.

9.  Therapy ~ I began individual therapy in October of 2007.  Over a year of unrelenting and increasingly serious insomnia which nothing my doctor prescribed would even touch, plus the overwhelming feelings of anger, confusion, depression, anxiety, etc…led me to the conclusion that I needed some help.  I was on the verge of a complete emotional breakdown and that is SO not me.

10.  Marital Problems ~ We began to have some significant issues shortly after I began therapy.  As I began to realize that what I resented and was angry about had been completely ignored (by me) because I was so co-dependent, and set out to correct that situation, things got ugly.  Really ugly.  It was affecting the kids.  We were both home almost every day…fighting.  By the beginning of January of 2008 it was apparent that we could not go on like this.  We began marriage counseling and separated.

11.  Marriage Counseling ~ I’m not going to sugar-coat this.  Marriage counseling is hell.  When two people who can’t even stand to be in the same house anymore and who see every situation from completely opposite perspectives are locked into a room with a person who wants to dig into all the BIG tough issues, it’s absolute torture.  It would have been much easier to have just filed for divorce than to go through all of that.  The end result would have been disastrous, but at the time, it would have been the easy way out of a horrendous situation. 

By April of 2008 we had made vast improvements in marriage counseling, we had both found jobs, and I was planning my solo vacation.  Things were starting to look up and that marked the beginning of the end of my mid-life crisis. 

Was it hell to go through?  YES!  But, in all honesty, without all of these events, I would never have learned all that I have about myself, my husband and life in general.  These events didn’t seem as significant or related at the time as they do in hindsight.  They all sort of just piled up on me until I reached my breaking point.  I am not the same person that I was in December of 2006, and for that, I am eternally grateful for the way this series of unfortunate events affected me.

Thanks for stopping by!

Related Reading:

Men in Mid-Life Crisis

Your Dream Career For Dummies

Saving Your Marriage Before It Starts (Inspirio/Zondervan Miniature Editions)

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I don’t know how I missed this quote until now.  This sums up my childhood and current situation perfectly.

I’ve wondered for some time what triggered my recent recollections and subsequent pain, anger and resentment about my childhood.  I’d always thought that once I got out of there, it was over.  I realized recently that was far from the case but I wasn’t sure why.

Here it is in black and white.  I’m safe enough now.  I’ve come to a point in my present life where I am happy enough, comfortable enough to be able to look back and face the secrets, memories and feelings I had been so afraid of before.

This is comforting to me.  No matter how anxious or depressed I sometimes feel, it’s yet another sign that I’m headed in the right direction.  I’m extremely lucky to have the help of my own friends and healers.  You know who you are. Thank you.

Thanks for stopping by!

Related Reading:

The Narcissist's Daughter: A Novel

The Healing Way: Adult Recovery from Childhood Sexual Abuse (The Hazelden Recovery Series)

Healing Hidden Memories: Recovery for Adult Survivors of Childhood Abuse

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