My Best Friends Have Hairy Legs (14 page)

Fortunately the realization that I could forgive myself and “lighten my load” had started when I was working on my MBA—so I’d already had about eight years to work on forgiving myself and others by then. Time I really needed actually since some forgiveness wasn’t as easily given as I thought at first it would be. As I began to receive acceptance and approval from outside sources, I started to look at myself as they saw me and began to accept and approve of myself. I began to forgive myself and others, like myself, and eventually love myself.

I realized that life was too short to spend it praying for death all the time and that I really didn’t want to be in such a hurry to get to the end of my story.

It wasn’t an easy thing to do, and didn’t happen over night. Some hurts I wanted to hang on to because they had been packed for so long that they conformed to the shape of the bag now. I had to pull some things out of the bag more than once because they always seemed to find a way back in. I sought counseling when certain issues reappeared, especially after the death of my father.

There were the “stupid” shirts that I had packed in several sizes, especially after my marriage to Marc. Those were finally gone when I realize that I wasn’t the only one he conned into thinking he was a great guy. He had even fooled my family and friends before we got married. I’ve also “wised up” and realize that when I see a red flag—I need to pay attention to it, no matter how small it may be. In spite of what it cost me financially, I have been able to forgive him for using me and betraying my trust in him.

When Marc and Ryan moved out, I chose to give them almost half of the furniture in the house—regardless of the fact that we hadn’t been married long enough for him to have deserved half of anything if we had to fight about it in court. It was furniture he hadn’t bought, and in some cases, I was still paying for it. But I considered it a “Good Will” donation to purge my home of the things (baggage) that would remind me of them. It was just “things” and “things” can always be replaced if necessary. It was my self-esteem that was harder to replace, and to start doing that, I needed to walk the higher road and not be hateful and vindictive.

That “you’d be a horrible mom” apron that I was forced to wear for so many years… I left it behind when I left California. I won’t ever get the chance to be a bio-mom now, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be the most Awesome Aunt that ever walked in the South. And I was a “mom” in a way when I bottle raised Oreo, and helped Chynna give birth to her puppies. Maybe I should have called this book “All My Kids Have Hairy Legs.”

My home isn’t always perfectly spotless, but my true friends don’t mind and they always feel welcome and comfortable here. So comfortable that I have some friends who come over for a visit and often wind up falling asleep on the sofa. I’m told that is a compliment. I haven’t killed anyone with my cooking—and I even have a spoon rest and new apron that say that! When I throw parties my house is filled with friends and laughter. I don’t often have too many leftovers when everyone leaves, and no one goes home hungry.

It has taken a while to finally feel like my “baggage” will fit under the seat in front of me, or in an overhead bin. I no longer worry about having all that excess “baggage” that had to be checked at the gate. Considering the changes in air travel costs… that is probably a good thing!

I don’t waste space in my bag, in my heart or my mind, on anger, judgment, hate or fear. Now my carry-on bag just has room for forgiveness, love, acceptance, and laughter. I’ve learned that life is better being able to laugh at myself instead of hating myself. When I had my annual neighborhood Christmas party less than three weeks after my retinal tear, I wrote “Ho, Ho, Ho” on my eye patch for the night. When I was planning my wedding to Marc, I had the church’s wedding co-ordinator almost in a panic when I told her I wanted to change the theme to a pirate wedding so I could wear a black eye patch. It was a week before she believed that I was just kidding.

My house is filled with humorous and meaningful plaques and artwork that remind me to respect myself and others, but mostly, to enjoy and laugh at life.

But the one that I have in my bedroom—that I look at every morning when I wake up and every night before I go to sleep—the one that reminds me of what is most important to remember—is an art print from Terri St. Cloud that says “I will not allow myself to be less than I am to meet anyone’s expectations.”

No, never again.

I trust enough to finally make myself available again to date. I’ve dropped hints to friends, family and neighbors that I’m interested in meeting new friends if they know of any nice, single men (yes that was probably an oxymoron) and where things go from there who knows.

I even went on a date the other night. My first since my divorce almost two years ago, so technically my first in over four years if you count Marc being the last person I dated. It was fun, we played pool, darts, and I got to hear him sing karaoke. But for some reason though, he didn’t mention the fact that he had a girlfriend he was living with before he asked me out.

Big Red Flag.

Why would a man who was living with his girlfriend… Flirt with me? Ask me out? Try at first to tell me she was “just” his roommate when she had called him three times in an hour?

But no worries, I didn’t have any expectations for the evening except to get out and have fun, so I wasn’t disappointed.

Dating in the 21st century as a 40-something is so different from dating in the 80’s when I was 20-something. Then, I just wanted to find someone to “love” me, and I’ll be the first to admit that when I was 20-something, I didn’t have a clue what love was.

Now, we all have some kind of “baggage” to consider—divorces, children, grandchildren, or elderly parents to take care of. One of my best girl friends is two years younger than me, and raising her four grandchildren alone. Another is dealing with sick parents. Dating now I have to wonder if someone I’m serious about practices safe sex and whether or not he has always practiced safe sex! I have to wonder whether or not he will show up on some criminal list if I Google him. The stories I could tell of the men I dated even before I met Marc… but that will be another book….

Trooper is much happier and more relaxed now. He has a healthy attitude about meeting new people. He no longer tries to run, and accepts new friends much faster than ever before. Recently we were out walking and a neighbor asked if I had jumper cables he could borrow. I went to get them, and I left Trooper off leash in the field across from our house while my neighbor watched him. As I rummaged around in the trunk of my car, I could hear my neighbor talking and walking closer. I turned and saw Trooper. With his head high and searching he had crossed the street to look for me, certain that I was in danger and needed his protection when he realized I was not in sight. I called to him, and he came to me. Happy that I was there. Happy that I was o.k.

He is my protector, my companion, my best friend.

I have a necklace that I wear occasionally it is a pewter pendant with a heart cut into it and says “I Am a Survivor.”

I am. We are. The light shines in us again. Our “peaceful hearts” glow with the joy of knowing that we are happy and content with who we are. We are loved. We are wanted. We are not alone.

I recently started doing something every time I go out to eat alone. As I’m eating, I will look around the restaurant and will pick a table to pay for their meals anonymously. The wait staff are sworn to secrecy and instructed to simply tell them that someone decided to bless them today and pay for their meals. It has brought tears to an elderly couples’ eyes, and to a wife dining out with her disabled husband. I have seen smiles of gratitude on more than one single mother struggling to treat her children to a night out. It has made a table of military members returning from deployment, and a table of two police officers taking a break during their shift feel appreciated for their work and sacrifices. It has also given the wait staff at the restaurant a part of the blessing that comes with giving unconditionally. I’ve seen a tired, overworked waiter or waitress suddenly feel a little less stressed after they tell their table that they have been blessed. They smile more, laugh more, and the atmosphere in the whole restaurant seems lighter. Even I have felt lighter—and brighter.

I think sometimes we all let the worries of this world dim our light. We carry too much baggage or too many burdens on our shoulders. We forget that we don’t have to carry it all alone. As I was driving to work one morning I prayed with gratitude for the tiny bunnies I saw on my drive that brought a smile to my face. Watching them nibbling at the grass at the side of the road, I felt blessed to realize that even those mornings when I didn’t see them, I knew that they were still there, in the shadows of the bushes. The thought occurred to me that those days that I felt unloved, unwanted, and alone I was never truly alone. Never truly unloved or unwanted. Just because I could not see it at that moment, it did not mean that it was not there. The bunnies are a reminder to me that regardless of what other people have said or done to me, I am loved. I am wanted. I am not alone. I may not know yet what my life will be like or how I can serve His purpose, but I do believe that I am here for His reasons. Even if He remains in the shadows and I do not see His hand in my every day life, there are times when I can see, and feel, His light shining through me as I bless others.

This is my hope for this book and for telling my—our—story. I hope that it has blessed you to believe that you are not alone, unwanted or unloved. I hope that it lets you see the light inside of you again, and that it helps you to feel lighter, and brighter. I hope that you will reach out to bless someone else with words or actions and that in blessing others, you will be blessed tenfold. Believe. Find your light. Shine. Share your light. Be blessed.