Apparently I attract a lot of men.

I don't mean in everyday life, although I might make the claim that I clean up pretty nicely for the most part. What I mean is that I've noticed that men seem to like to read my blog and then freak out about the things I say.

I don't know what makes me so appealing to these guys/this guy, but it probably has to do with the fact that I'm not yet divorced and am open to write about nearly anything. Maybe my critics think they can change my mind.

One thing I've noticed, and which I just really have to comment on, is that one commenter in particular really seems to project his own marital issues onto me. When I say "project," I mean that he was hurt by his wife/ex-wife in a certain way and for one reason or another he sees the same thing in me.

I'm just assuming, of course, but I think that when he types out his angry tirades that he is actually typing to his wife. It may be subconscious, but I would bet you anything that after he comments on my blogs he gets a real feeling of satisfaction.

Hey, mess with a blogger who has a degree in psychology and you're going to get an analysis. Sorry.

So to my dear male critic, I need to clarify a few things. I'm not your wife/ex-wife. She and I are two completely different women. I know that you think she didn't do enough, and that you had to carry the burden of everything. I know you resented her staying home while you went to work. Maybe that arrangement was indeed off-kilter for the two of you, and maybe it proved to be the downfall of your marriage. I sympathize that you had to go through that, and I have no doubt that at one time you were completely in love with her. It's tough to watch love dissolve, isn't it?

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Do you believe in "signs"? This is not a rhetorical question. Do you? Remember in Sleepless in Seattle when Meg Ryan said she didn't believe and then the vintage dress tore in the attic with her mother, and she said, "It's a sign."

I believe in them. And isn't that really why most of ask these type questions — so we can tell you what we think and then give you an example? (Smile)

My mother died in October of 2000. It's easy to remember the chain of events that happened the fall before and the fall after. On September 29, 1999, I was driving my Isuzu Trooper into the city of Anchorage, Alaska, for the very first time in my life. And the fall after my mother died, 9/11 happened.

About a month after she'd passed and in early November of 2000, I was sitting in my house in Alaska feeling alone, cold, and depressed. Stinky was spending most of his time up on the North Slope working in the oil industry, and that particular afternoon, the children were sleeping. I put in an old VHS (ah, remember those?) of the movie Ghost.

What's important here is that my mother went to the movie theater twice in her lifetime: once to see The Way We Were and second to see ET (I took her). She was not a movie or television fan. She read books, and lots of them. However, she'd bought this movie for me for some reason. She came home with it and gave it to me as a gift. She said, "I thought you'd like this." Odd.

That afternoon in Alaska, I decided that I needed to watch this movie, so I pulled out a big comforter and hit play.

At one point in the movie, Demi Moore sees Patrick Swayze for the first time since he was murdered, and at that very moment, in my own "life's" movie, my door flew wide open and a rush of leaves blew in. It was simply magical.

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Here's one from the comments:

"Grief is the price we pay for love...end of story."

I've been all week trying to figure that one out. First, if it was in response to the post or if it was just a general belief, then, if it mattered.

It doesn't. It's just a good thought to think on, because there's a whole lot of truth in it. Grief is the price we pay. For everything dear to us. For living life, grief is a cost.

But, so what? If we had no grief, we'd have no passion. If we have no passion, what's the point?

The thing is, I keep going back to that comment because I don't understand the writer's intent. Maybe s/he was agreeing with me. Saying exactly what I'm trying to figure out how to say right here.

It's not a cynical outlook. It just is. Everything worth having comes with risk taking. Everything that comes goes.

I've always thought of "this too shall pass," in terms of hard times, because the good times, we want those to last for ever. But, this too shall pass. Our lives are fluid.

Like the ocean, we're the water not the waves. The tide comes in and the tide washes back out, the water remains.

Grief is not the price we pay for love. Grief is the price we pay for holding on too tightly.

Grief is the price we pay for being human.

I say it's all worth the grief.

I was inside a building that blew up. Yep. KaBam! Boom! Pow!

When the explosion ended almost in a matter of one single second, I found myself blown out of my office chair and on my hands and knees under my desk.

What had just happened? I asked myself, completely unaware of the second and third degree burns that covered my feet, ankles, hands and face.
I immediately scrambled to stand and rushed to get out of the building, as I was quite certain another explosion was to come. I still had no idea what had happened.

That was 25 years ago, but the same emotional shock and confusion and even physical pain would come again when my divorce was final. What had just happened? Yesterday I was married. Today, I'm a single parent raising two young children on my own.

Divorce wreaks your life. So, if you're considering it, please make sure you know that there simply is no other way to survive, literally. If you can find a way to make it work, find that way and make it work.

Divorce is the last resort. It should not be used as an excuse to remove yourself from a situation that has become a little hard, challenging and less fulfilling than it once was. It should not be an excuse to go shopping again for something that you think might bring happiness to you.

Divorce is not an escape valve. It's serious business, and it breaks hearts each and every time.

I am in the "moving beyond" for FWW. That is who I am and what I am doing. It comes with its own set of challenges each day. It comes with its own unfulfillment, it's own lack luster. It's own boredom, strife, heartbreak.

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Here goes another life-changing moment. Am I ready for it? 

Um, survey says: no. 

For 13 years, I have been obsessed with the fact that I never completed my undergraduate degree. I always felt as if my life was somewhat incomplete because of this — as if I was half a person, and this, I think, shaped the way I allowed others to treat me, as well as how I treated myself. 

Now I am one exam away from completion, with the rest of my life now staring back at me. Problem is, now I have to redefine my entire existence. 

Same story, different chapter. 

I know that many of us have felt this way at one point in time or another; marriage, divorce, school, etc. All these things change how we view life and view ourselves. Oftentimes, with the same effort as flipping a coin or walking through a door, we go from one extreme to another, and are left to struggle with how to deal with our new situation. 

I have seen this side of the coin quite a few times, for different reasons (dropping out of school, entering and leaving the military, marriage, divorce, going back to school, etc.). I will just have to try to remember the tricks of the trade that allowed me to get through these trying times without getting weighted down or losing site of the bigger picture. 

Or better yet: without losing my mind.

"Well, I wanted to go for a walk in the woods, and I have to get ready for that fishing trip on Monday, and I might want to take a nap...and I don't feel like cooking supper... How about next week? Next week is better for me." 

No, next week was not better. Next week was far too long for a little girl missing her daddy. I pointed that out. 

"Aw, don't make me feel guilty. I really don't want to feel guilty about this. I need time to do my own things and..." 

When you separate and you have children, be prepared. Be prepared to be the one who has to explain, gently, why we can't go see Daddy. Or why Daddy doesn't come have supper more often. Or why daddy has to leave to go home. 

Despite being used to this, despite knowing all the right words and the proper how-tos, I still feel the pain of having to disappoint a child when Dad just doesn't want to be a dad. 

Does it make me mad? Sure. Sure it does. Fathers should be there for their kids — all the time. 

What makes this such a hot issue when a couple splits up, though? I know married couples that live together and the father works 70 hours a week. He barely sees his kids. I know mothers too wrapped up in their own lives to care for their kids. 

When a couple splits up, why do people suddenly get all upset if dad doesn't want the kids for a day or a week? What changed beyond the situation before? 

I don't begrudge my ex his need for time on his own. No one should have to have their weeks full of work and responsibilities with no spare time left to relax and do what they want.

There's compromise, too. My girl wants to see her dad. Dad wants to be alone for a while. "How about if we come at 3 and just stay for a few hours? You have time to do your stuff and she'll be happy to see you."

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Sam didn't want me to go. He begged and cried and left a haiku stuck to the mirror on Post-It notes every morning.

He said marriage is forever and we promised to be in this together forever.

He said I said I was ruining the kids.

He asked if I could find it in my heart to give him one more chance.

The thing is, he was miserable in it, too. Was so unhappy, months before I left he went to a friend's house to ask if he could live there for a while. Until he figured things out. Got a place of his own.

But he didn't ask. Sam said he knew that night, in coming so close to leaving, that he wanted to stay, would stay in it forever trying to make it work.

I wonder why sometimes. Love or fear?

He wasn't getting what he needed from me any more that I was getting it from him.

I know it's true, because I wasn't giving it. He blames himself. Outsiders, when they look at our relationship, they blame him too. The things he "did" were tangible.

You could name them.

And some were just reactions. Ways of being in relation to the ways I was being.

I thought I was taking my time in this separation to see if there was changes in Sam that could make us better together. That's not what I'm doing.

What I really doing, I know now, is taking my time to see if there are changes in me.

Let's talk about weight, shall we? Yeah, yeah, we're all writing and commenting and visiting this wonderfully supportive site, and we're sharing our thoughts, fears, concerns, hopes and dreams. But what about our bodies? 

What wonderful changes can you expect when you move beyond divorce? Hmmm, let's see. Depends, really. Some women who become depressed stop eating altogether. Some eat constantly. Some drink. Some go searching for random acts of sexual contact. I did a bit of drinking the first year, and that coupled with fast food, as I was sad and unwilling to cook (which I think is a happy act) allowed my body to find new mass.

Lovely. Weight gain. My favorite thing. Yours, too, I just bet.  

But rather than dwelling on the negative right off the bat, let's start, instead, with the positive. As a 50-year-old woman, a little extra fat in the face makes Botox something completely unnecessary. So, think of it as a free face lift compliments of Ritz crackers, squirt cheese and Tabasco olives, French fries, and sweet tea by the gallons. 

A larger bust - maybe depending on your body type. More breast, I don't need. Hell, I paid $12,000 to have them reduced after Joseph was weaned. But, for some, a little extra might be welcome. 

OK, that's about it for the positive. 

The negative? Ah, where to begin. My skirts hug my waist so tightly that the hug should really be considered a choke hold. My tops "pop" a little if they have buttons in the front. And, for the first time in my life, I have this roll beneath my breasts. And that roll, that roll, is so large it should have an address! 

My neck. OK, where exactly did my whole neck go? I mean it's still there if I push my head out away from my body. I can almost succeed in hiding the extra flesh in pictures with this little move.

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I carry a notebook around with me. When I read a sentence I find particularly beautiful ("her heart a red cup of fierceness tucked among ordinary things") or when someone says something particularly hilarious ("I didn't hear you because when I walk I hear the music from Peter and the Wolf in my head"), or something that resonates in some way, I write it down. Sometimes one sentence, put together in just that way brings a little more sense into my world. I like quotes. I like bits and pieces. I like the way other people string words together. 

When Jake called and told me that he didn't think he'd be back, he was in China. He said, "I've been thinking about it, and I don't know if I'll be coming home at all."

I have one of those "quote of the day" widgets on my computer. The day after that call it said: "When someone walks away from you, let them walk. Your destiny is never tied to anyone who has left." 

I don't know why it is that if someone else says it, it means something more. I assume that's true for all of us. Why else do we clip newspapers? Quote songs? Read a stranger's blog on a Web site, for that matter? 

Sometimes it's that someone else has found the words I can't. 

Sometimes it's knowing I'm not the only one who feels this way. 

Sometimes the fact that it's someone else gives the words the credibility I can't find in my own head. 

After staring at it for a while, I wrote it on a Post-It and stuck to it to the wall by the door. Later, it moved to the bathroom mirror.

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The other day was a doozy. The kids were both stir-crazy because of the rain, and when they get stir-crazy they get awfully clingy and needy. I had three deadlines looming and I had to go to a meeting. The house was a mess and I couldn't figure out a time to go grocery shopping even though the pantry was pretty much bare.

All in all, it was the kind of day where I felt stretched to the limit and although I wanted nothing more than to curl into bed and hide from the world it just wasn't an option.

Too many obligations, and not enough of me to go around.

After the kids were in bed I sat down to punch out the work that I had to do. I figured if I worked for two hours straight I could get to bed before midnight, then the next day I could try to tackle the housework and maybe get to the grocery store if everything worked out.

I had been working for a few minutes when my husband stopped flipping through the television channels and looked over at me. "I need to talk to you about something," he said, and then proceeded to tell me that I wasn't paying enough attention to him.

Now that's bad timing.

I was already on edge because I was trying to deal with so much at once. Sometimes it gets overwhelming: kids, work, keeping up the house...I understand that when I have so much to deal with my husband's need for attention might take a back seat. There are just some times when I have to get stuff done and I don't have the time to fawn over him.

That either makes me a realist, or it makes me incredibly insensitive to my husband's needs. Or maybe I'm an insensitive realist.

I work hard. It would be great to end an evening with my husband saying something along the lines of, "I know you've been stretched thin lately. What can I do to help?" instead of, "Pay more attention to me."