49 AND FEELING FINE ... What Is That All About?
I need to back up a bit in history in order to explain the handle of the blog: 49 And Feeling Fine.
Let's travel back to 2014.
This was the year that saw major changes occur in my life. This was the year that saw me walk away from my marriage of 19+ years, and from the man with whom I had lived for 21 years. Courtship, marriage, relocation, opening of our own river rafting outfit, home owners, three children, selling of the rafting outfit, selling of our home, cruising and living on the ocean for 11 years (yes, with our children!), returning to land and re-establishing the same river rafting outfit.
Sounds like a good life, doesn't it? It was. Exceptional, in fact. Large portions of my married life were fantastic, phenomenal, unique and irreplaceable.
Yet under all that adventure, freedom, independence, self-reliance and love, there was a fundamental undercurrent that overrode all those positive elements. An undercurrent that manifested itself into a whirling dervish of blame and rage. I thought long and hard about my decision to leave. I searched deep inside myself to determine just how much more of this undercurrent I could take. After great anguish and vast quantities of tears, I had to admit to myself, and to my children, that my time as "wife" was over; that it was time for me to say "enough" and "no more"; that it was time for me to stand up for myself.
I turned 49 years old during this process.
I was 49 years old when I stood up for myself and left my husband.
That was July 18, 2014.
I had a lot on my plate right from the onset. I had to find a place to live for me and my three teenagers. I had to find a job. I had to pack up my oldest and settle him into university life. I had to establish a daily life for my younger two children still at home. I had to tend to the marital financial matters that were left hanging in the wind. And, eventually, I would have to tend to the matter of divorce. Thankfully, my parents did not hesitate to help, and I at least had some money in the bank account in which to pay first and last month's rent and buy some food. If not for that generosity, I don't know how everything would have settled out.
There were, in addition to the stressful responsibilities of getting on with life, hours of great laughter, tears (good tears!), hugs and long, long telephone calls to girlfriends scattered across the country and across my personal life history. Girlfriends who I had not seen for 30 years. Girlfriends who answered the telephone and whooped with joy when they realized who was on the other end. Re-connecting with so many long lost girlfriends has been so incredibly precious and invaluable to me. To be able to turn to another single human being when you needed to talk, much less turn to a growing list of such humans, was finally making me feel as if I was truly loved in the world.
In addition to the variety of conversations throughout this time, I also needed to express myself in a more one-directional manner. I began to write.
Therapy would materialize in the future, but for now, the best therapy for me was going for a walk/hike to a fantastic viewpoint, and then sit with my laptop and simply let the words spill out onto the keyboard. Rather than just a journal for myself, I had this indescribable need to share my words and emotions and torment with anyone out there who would read it. I started a blog.
49 And Feeling Fine.
I will admit that after writing many, many, many posts for 12 months, I began to write less and less. Then, I entered a non-fiction writing contest and adapted the very first blog entry to be my submission to the contest. One rule of the contest was that you could not have any previously published works, or else your entry would be eliminated. Were blog entries deemed to be published works? I didn't want to take the chance, as I really wanted to try my hand at non-fiction writing. I then printed up each and every blog entry and then deleted each and every one of them! Just like that, they were gone.
I didn't get anywhere in the contest. The printed blog entries sat in an envelope for many months while I tried to figure out how to return to writing.
As 2016 was coming to a close, and I was dealing with yet another round of personal conflict, I decided to start the blog up again. I have been encouraged by many friends over the past couple of years to write a book; a memoir. I simply have not been able to wrap my head around the idea completely. Blogging seemed much more natural to me.
I discovered that I want to inspire other people, most notably women. I want to share the details of what I have overcome, and what I have felt, past and present. I want to be an example of a strong woman. I want others to see that even though I was subjected to incredibly tumultuous marital scenarios, I was able to hold my head high and walk away from it. I want to, hopefully, have my words make a difference in someone else's life. Through my words and my strength, perhaps someone out there may also find strength in herself to change her situation.
With the first blog entry, the words flowed and my fingers typed. There was a very natural progression with what was written. It wrapped up nicely with the words "I am 49 years old, and I feel fine". I liked that. And that's how the blog handle came into existence. Simple, actually!
I think, bit by bit, I will include some (and perhaps eventually, all) of those original writings. For now, I will include that first post as a post script. I hope you enjoy it.
There is so much for which I am excited to write. Whether it is specifically about my own experiences, or observations of the world around me, there is no end of inspiring topics to wax lyrical!
I look forward to this ongoing story.
Happy Friday, everyone!
POST SCRIPT:
Friday, August 8, 2014
49 And Feeling Fine
This is it. My first words on my own personal blog. After watching the movie “Julie and Julia”, I reveled in the idea of a blog. Writing down your thoughts, sharing your thoughts with people out there who you may never know. There was some sort of cathartic appeal to it all. Perhaps originally it had more to do with wanting to be a writer as my dream to write a children’s story has yet to be realized. But the real turning point occurred three weeks ago when my almost 20-year marriage essentially ended.
I took the brave step to ask my husband to seek the professional help of a psychiatrist. The conversation aside, the end result was refusal on his part. I then, subsequently, refused to join him as he turned to walk towards home. He did not join me, and I did not join him. And that was it.
I had, completely unknowingly, been living with mental illness for years. It was only a couple of months ago, while my husband lay sleeping beside me, that I did a Google search on “paranoia” and my entire life, in that one instance, took on a new meaning. It would take weeks of emotional and academic preparation, consulting doctors (both General Physicians and a Psychiatrist) and conversing with my children, before the actual day of confrontation. Many meltdowns occurred. Plenty of tears were shed. But in the end, as I watched my husband turn and walk away from me, I knew with complete certainty that I had done the right thing for me.
I have had no second thoughts, no regrets, no doubts. I do not fear what lies ahead. I am strong. I am fearless. I am going for my dream job. I have a new haircut, new glasses (progressive lenses which are quite fun to get used to!), a new apartment with my three amazing teenagers, and the peaceful happiness of knowing that my children and their father are talking again and wanting to always be in each others’ lives. The only relationship that has been irrevocably altered is that between he and I. And that’s the way it should be. For that, I am grateful.
I can breathe again. Enjoy the world the way that I want to enjoy the world. I am running again. I am in contact with so many friends who drifted off onto the sidelines over the years. My isolation is ending and I love it!
I am 49 years old, and I feel fine.
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