Do-Overs

Do-Overs


Looking back (as oldsters often do), my first major mistake in life was marrying the wrong guy straight out of high school. Back then, this was the fastest way to get out of a household where I was being physically and sexually abused. At the age of 18, what did I know about the frying pan-to-fire concept? Even after 7 years of marital misery, however, I have to say I’d do it over again if I had to, in order to end up with the two sons he gave up but I held onto. I’d simply do it differently. I would have ended the marriage sooner.

Later, at one point during my college years, I realized no matter how much I learned I’d never know it all, or even know enough (by my own standards), so I dropped out. Truth be told, I was too busy living life to actually learn more about it. On second thought, however, I did learn… from “the best teacher of all - experience.” I eventually got back on the academic track and was more receptive and responsive due to the respite.

After my first baby was born I was told any future births should be by c-section. I was able to avoid that the second time around, by spending my 8th month in bed and having labor induced a week early to keep the baby’s size down. At that point, the doctor told me I should not have more children period. I totally forgot his advice when, many years later, Frank and I had been married five months and we decided to have a baby together (his only child). She was an emergency c-section, which happened so suddenly the anesthesia hadn’t even taken effect. They say we forget pain, but I remember that one all too clearly. Would I do it over gain? Of course! There are worse things in life than having your belly sliced side to side in order to bring new life into the world. :-)
There were two junctures where I made difficult judgment calls I do deeply regret, and would “do over,” were I given the chance. They are too personal too divulge in detail, but suffice it to say I will carry the guilt as a constant reminder that circumstances can sometimes be too weighty during our younger years, to allow wisdom to prevail. I pay that price justifiably, and therapeutically. Meaning lessons learned… even if the hard way.

In my late forties I made a career choice I also regret. I was so happy at home -- keeping house, fixing meals, baking pies from scratch, and packing lunches for my husband and teens (including some who had nowhere else to live, so we took them in). But I was lured back into the workplace for all the wrong reasons. Mainly money -- a large law firm made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I was out of my element and, although I was good at doing my job, I was lousy at playing the game (office politics). Under the influence of too many beers, one of the attorneys once told my husband, “The trouble with Ginny is she sees through our bullshit.” I did, and I paid the price for that. But then so did they because I left of my own accord, hitting them right where it hurt -- in their pocketbook. If I had it to do over again, however, I would have turned down the job at the onset. It wasn’t worth it.

So, to quote Sinatra, Regrets, I’ve had a few, but then again, too few to mention. Except that mention them I did, lol. Regrets are a part of life. My theory is that anyone who doesn’t have some tucked away in their psyche, hasn’t lived life fully enough. Thankfully, no one who knows me will ever accuse me of that!

A Church Wedding Brings Horses to My Mind

I went to a wedding yesterday. I didn't know the bride or groom or anyone else who was there, for that matter --except my daughter-in-law, who asked me to be "her date" when my son wasn't able to go with her. It was a sweet wedding -- church with stained glass windows, organ music, traditional "Bridal March," white dress and veil, and the most adorable little flower girl you would ever wish to see. I loved it! I'm such a sap for that sort of thing. I had to dab at my eyes and couldn't even tell you why at the time.

Looking back though, I think it may have been because a wedding is such a turning point in the lives of two people who haven't the foggiest idea what lies ahead of them. They're young (or not), in love, filled with hopes, overwhelmed by dreams, absolutely certain that their marriage will be like no other! For those --like me, who have been there, done that -- the eyes may mist over a bit because we know better.

Weddings such as this one are rare today, I'm sorry to say. So many couples just choose to live together, or run off to the courthouse or to an in-and-out chapel somewhere. To each his/her own, of course. Frank and I had a very simple ceremony ourselves, but it wasn't the first for either of us. My first was as traditional as the one I went to yesterday, and it only lasted seven years, six and five-sixths of which were unhappy -- so who am I to say what's best and what's not? But that's not the point.

The point is that a wedding marks a new beginning, by virtue of which it also marks an ending. Two innocents who have been romancing each other cloaked in moonlight and love songs are now buckling in to partner up in the business of facing reality. Not always a smooth ride. So a wedding is a happy occasion, but also a sad one in a way.

Yesterday's blushing bride and glowing groom met through a dating service on line. Their first phone conversation lasted seven hours! They dated for two years before taking the big step. I genuinely wish them all the best. But at my age I've seen the rise and fall of so many marriages, this may be another reason why I fought yesterday to hold back tears. I have my views about what makes the difference between a good one and a bad one.

In my opinion, the marriage that lasts is the marriage of two people who, without even thinking about it, each put the other's happiness above their own.... who both put the happiness of the other above their own. Doesn't work if only one of them "gets" this. It absolutely must be reciprocal, and natural (as opposed to forced). Marriage is like two horses pulling a cart, where sometimes one is weaker so the other has to be stronger, one is tired so the other has to pull harder, and that switches off from time to time, working out evenly enough that the cart continues moving forward despite stops and starts, pot holes in the road, and an occasional storm that hits with or without relent. Each horse is looking out for the other. Neither one can make it "all about me."

I know for a fact that sometimes on an easy trail, a horse becomes complacent. Lets the mind wander. Maybe stubs a toe, which brings the outer world back into sharp focus. I also know sometimes a horse remains tense, hyper vigilant, spooking now and then or even running out of control. Putting a good team together means finding personalities that complement each other. One horse may calm the other down, or perk the other up, and they can then function more efficiently than either would without the other.

Energy is ever flowing, however. Changes are constant and erratic. A problem arises when the give and take between members of a team wobbles out of balance. If one carries the load for too long while the other slacks off and settles into a comfortable rut, the writing is on the wall and it ain't directions to the winner's circle. That's why horses must (repeat must) pay close, constant attention with the intention of staying on track and reaching their goal... together.

When I hear young people talk about how hard marriage can be I say, "Yes, yes, I know, I know. Frank and I are coming up on 35 years and we're still working at it." Divorce is difficult as well -- though in many ways much easier today than "back when." I say as long as a couple is willing to work at one (marriage) or the other (divorce) -- it's always better to build something you've committed to than to tear it down and go separate ways (often to repeat past mistakes).

Bottom line: There's nothing better than a good marriage and nothing worse than a bad one, but relationships don't steer themselves. We hold the reins. The responsibility rests in our hands.

My Horse and my Ex-husband

Last week I took my ex-husband to the ranch to feed my horse carrots and walk around a bit. He's been living back in town for a couple of years, I think, but it's only been recently that I've decided we can be friendly, if not friends. We divorced in 1966 when we lived at Lake Tahoe and he decided he liked the night life more than family life. While I was cleaning house, starching curtains, baking pies, raising two small boys and teaching Sunday School, he was drinking, gambling, and getting to know at least one other woman in the Biblical sense.

I had a rough row to hoe as a single mom with an ex-husband who couldn't afford to pay child support because partying is costly in a casino setting. The idea of forgiving him for abandoning us didn't even occur to me until many, many years later, when I realized his leaving us was actually our good fortune.

Through thick and thin, the boys and I have maintained our bond, and of course without what Tommy now calls "the biggest mistake of his life" there would be no husband Frank, no daughter Jennifer, and no granddaughters Annabella, Evelyn, or Olivia due in September. So when I think back to the day he walked out, I thank my lucky stars. Obviously it wasn't a great marriage but I would have stuck it out only because back then I actually bought into that "for better or worse" nonsense.

Frank likes it when I spend a little time with Tommy every now and then. Mainly because it reminds me of how my life might have been, and makes me appreciate the life I have now even more. But it was a passage from my favorite book, Women Who Run With the Wolves (Claire Pinkola Estes) that caused me to rethink my ice berg attitude toward Tommy through all these years. She wrote: "Forgiveness is not surrender. You're the one who decides... when the debt is paid, when enough is enough. You can forgive with no more chances."

Tommy will never hurt, scare or even disappoint me again. I am in no way emotionally invested in our new relationship. What I see is a lonely old man who has no friends, nothing to do with his time except tinker with cars and drink, and who sports a sorrow etched deeply in his face. For his 70th birthday I gave him the words I had never before been able to utter. "I forgive you," adding, "Now you need to forgive yourself."

No more chances... for him to breathe life back into what was stagnant years back, even before we let it die. He wouldn't try to even if he thought he could. He always told me I was too good for him, that he didn't deserve me. He was right.

That having been said, if a couple of hours over lunch mixed with half hearted laughter playing "Remember the time..." , or a birthday dinner at my house with my family (his first), or an afternoon feeding carrots to my horse (a photo op to help fill pages in his album) helps brighten his days, well and good. I like being nice to him. It lightens my own burden. I didn't have to marry him at the ripe old age of 18, after all, I chose to. So I've had some self-forgiveness work to do too. We were both young and, let's face it, stupid. But we did make a couple of wonderful sons. In fairness to Tommy, he always gives me full credit for the job I did raising them without him.

The difference between Tommy and me is he fell off the mountain way back when. I kept climbing... and life is good at the top. I can afford to be gracious, therefore I am. Why? Well, why not? The debt has been paid. Enough is enough, and as Dr. Laura would say, it's just the right thing to do.