Maude VS Eat, Pray, Love

I am about to embark on another huge adventure. Probably the biggest adventure of my 50 trips around the sun: I am taking a solo trip to Italy for 2.5 weeks and I could not possibly be more excited.

Some people have asked me if I am nervous or scared to go. That's the funny thing about being Maude: I'm rarely scared, and only occasionally nervous. I've jumped out of an airplane, gone bungee jumping & zip lining, and risked my life to save little sailboats on Lake Coeur d'Alene in my youth. I'm the crazy person in the front of the roller coaster and I have never, ever met a ride that put fear in my soul.

I can definitively say the one thing I'm scared of is being alone for the rest of my life, while at the same time I have zero desire to be in a relationship. That's the other funny thing about being Maude: I'm an enigma. Always an enigma. 

I am, however, learning to love my own company. I've done all kinds of things on the solo track this year and I know without a shadow of a doubt that traveling to a foreign country will be no different. Friends, this will be the first time in my life I will have ever stamped my passport. 

And I'm hoping this is not a one and done. To be honest, I've always had a wandering heart. A desire to see the world. Soak up some history. See things I've only read about in books. So here I am. And thanks to a shitload of miles due to COVID and no travel, I can finally make this happen.

Two and a half weeks of travel time. Time to think. To process. Evaluate and re-evaluate what I want to do and who I want to be. Many of my friends have asked me if this is my eat, pray, love adventure. I laughed it off at first but as I thought about it, it really kind of is.

I will eat and drink (sooo much amazing wine) my way through all of central and southern Italy. I cannot wait to sit in a café somewhere with espresso and my laptop and tell some stories that have been living in my brain for way too long. 

It will be incredible to taste REAL limoncello, authentic and locally made olive oil, all the prosecco my liver can process and figure out how in the hell to avoid gluten in Italy. 

I will pray. I imagine I'll pray a lot: on the flight that I make it safely. On the country roads in the little Fiat I rented, on the cliffs, in the city of Rome, on the canals of Venice and I imagine, even though I no longer practice Catholicism, I'll visit a few old churches and reconnect with my faith in God, outside of the constructs of being Catholic. 

I do envision a lot of praying not to die as I drive a tiny car on back roads in a country I've never been to.

And love. What is that going to be? I'm not looking for love with anyone but myself. I hope, I pray (and I'll eat a few meals while I manifest this thing) that I will learn to love myself. My imperfect, loud, inappropriate, funny at times, occasionally brilliant but mostly average, tall, freckle-faced, gray haired and wrinkled self. 

I don't know if I ever have loved myself fully and completely. I've spent most of my 50 years wishing I were different somehow, better than I am, shorter, skinnier, more athletic, less of a misfit, more successful, funnier, quieter, less freckled, more confident and less of a screw up than what I see when I look in the mirror.

I hope that I will come home with more love for myself for all of my imperfections and all of my mistakes. And for all the things that truly make me who I am.

And I hope that when I come home I'll feel a little more like a whole person, maybe a little more like myself. I am still struggling to make sense of my life and how I got here and what I want for the rest of it. 

Italy may not have all the answers, but it sure has good food and wine and places to see. I really can't ask for more than that.

And, if I can love myself just enough...my future, no matter what it holds, will be wonderful.

Broken is still beautiful

The irony of my current situation is never lost on me. The irony is that as hard as I tried to not allow history to repeat itself, here I am: divorced, middle-aged with a teenager and a college kid, just like my parents. Knee-deep in a very busy career, just like my mom. Struggling to make sense of the end, just like my dad.

The thing I could not see through my own grief over the final ending of my parent’s marriage, a relationship that I knew most of my life was already over, was how hard it all was on my parents. Now I do.

I was 18 when my parents separated. My mom soon began to date Mike, who became my stepdad while I was in college, and eventually earned the title of bonus dad through his kindness to me. I can tell the story of the exact moment our relationship changed to one of deep respect and care, but that’s not the point of this story.

My dad also quickly moved on with one woman, and then a few months later to a new one who would become his life partner. I mistook the ease with which they seemingly transitioned into new relationships to mean that the divorce wasn't hard on them. In the middle of my own pain, which was (rightfully so) my focus, I could not begin to think that the life up-ending for all of us was difficult at best, nearly impossible at its worst, and heart-wrenching at its core. But it was all of those things to all of us.

In the end, both of my parents found themselves with partners who, in many ways, were very broken. No one ends a 25 (or in my case 20) year marriage without some collateral damage. Hell, any marriage, regardless of its tenure will generate emotional damage for both parties. It can be both our brokenness that leads to the end and why and how we choose the partners we do for that new beginning.

Neither of my parent's second relationships was perfect. No relationship is ever perfect, and both of my parents stayed with their “other” until either they or the “other” passed away. I learned by watching these three relationships, my parents’ marriage to each other, and then their time with their “others” that relationships take work.

Sometimes no matter how much work you put in, there is no fix. And sometimes, even though the relationship isn’t perfect people can make it through until the “death do us part thing.” I’m not sure if that is my future or my direction. And I’m not sure I really care. I am still broken. And I always will be. And that is OK.

Broken is beautiful, and here’s my story about that: once upon a time, my mom and bonus dad took a trip to Europe. In fact, they traveled so frequently they may have been to Europe more than once, but I remember this particular story very clearly.

While in Morocco, my mom found a big bowl that had a pretty design that she loved. It was ceramic and therefore quite fragile, but she was confident she could get it home safely. It was decided that they could carry the bowl onto the plane and keep it safe. It was left in an overhead bin on every leg. And it almost made it home until they reached the final flight. A passenger who had no idea what was in the plastic bag shoved his carry-on into the bin and my mom said she heard the bowl shatter and knew it wasn’t going to be fixable.

When they finally landed my mom grabbed the bag and the bowl was in pieces, and her heart was almost as broken as the bowl. It was something she thought would remind her of this wonderful trip with Mike, which was fortuitous as just a few years later his own memory would fade, and he would eventually be diagnosed with Lewy Bodies Dementia.

Mike, my bonus dad, knew how much the bowl meant to my mom. It was broken, so broken, completely beyond repair. But, unbeknownst to my mom, he glued it back together piece by piece. The bowl was unusable, but it was transformed from a broken bowl into something beautiful enough that he could take to a ceramic store and attempt to recreate the design. 

The bowl he painted was a little different than the one they brought home, a slightly different shape than the original, but even more special than the one they bought.

That’s what happens when we are broken. Eventually, we glue ourselves back together. 

We don’t know how all the pieces will fit, but we do our best to make it work. 

And, in the end, we aren’t the same. But we end up being beautiful in our own way, better than we were before and sometimes we become the inspiration for something or someone else.

Broken is beautiful. It always will be.

Maude VS 50 First Dates

OK maybe not quite 50 first dates yet. I'm not even sure how many. I am not counting. But it kind of feels like it. At first, it wasn't any fun. But now that I'm in therapy (oh yes, you read that right) I have an entirely new outlook on this whole crazy process.

The dates? It really isn't worth dissecting them one by one. But I've learned some stuff and there's some stuff I wish I could tell my dates. Mostly I have learned a great deal about myself.

What have I learned? While "online" dating is weird and backward to me, the end result is still the same as it was before: you may or may not feel a connection. Your date may or may not feel a connection. One of you might and the other one might not. That's the most common outcome. But when you both do, I can only imagine how cool that will be. Not sure that's happened just yet. But that is also really OK.

And this dating thing isn't all that different than before, but instead of meeting in a bar or a frat party, you've at least got some biographical information (and a few photos) that you can use to weed out those you would not be interested in and prioritize those that meet your criteria. It's sort of an efficiency thing. You get a chance to chat first online and TRUST ME friends, you'll be able to weed out the weirdos INSTANTLY via chat. Saves some awkwardness at the bar...

And, the good news too, is, unless you're swiping left or right after a few glasses of wine, you don't have those old beer goggles on before the date. Better yet, if you match you can review their info before the date and if you're going on more than one date, it helps you keep all the suitors straight. I mean, not that I would know or anything...

See? Look at me and my whole new attitude about online dating. It is actually getting to be fun. I have ZERO expectations. The bar was set low from the jump (read previous post about polyamorous dude with a ten month old) so as long as I'm keeping my attitude and expectations in check, I think I'll continue to (BIG GASP) enjoy this whole thing.

Therapy has definitely taught me a few things. First of all, I just need to look at this as a fun thing. Just fun. I'm not going to meet "that someone" anytime soon. It took most of my twenties to find my first husband (well, my only one actually) so it's not going to be like I snap my fingers, and there he is. It will take time.

And I'm getting to be OK with that. I am still a bit of a mess. I am feeling all kinds of feels that I had not allowed myself to feel before. Getting all these (gross) feelings out of my body and into my therapists' ears for her to listen, dissect and then comment on has been cathartic and healing.

I learned I'm still very angry and I may have some Daddy issues. Who doesn't? Anyhoo...

I do know for sure that I am not ready for a Serious Relationship. I am good to build friendships, maybe date someone and get to know them, but I have a truckload of issues to work through and until I do, there will likely be some pretty big roadblocks in the way for me to even attempt a "healthy relationship" and yes, I am using air quotes because I am not really sure it's a real thing. But I'm hopeful.

Things I wish I could tell some of the dates I've been on range from "I have survived cancer and a divorce, so you being not interested in me is OK, just tell me" to "it is OK to allow a woman to pay for her own stuff and you should not mind if she pays for yours too" and my personal favorite "if what I do for a living bothers you, we aren't a match".

I have been on some interesting dates, one guy was on the autism spectrum and was probably one of my favorites because he was fascinating to talk to. 

One of the best was a guy who was (mom! cover your eyes) super super super fit and hot. I mean - SMOKING hot. He says he wants to date but I'm not stupid and when you don't hear from someone, you kind of know. But it's OK - I think he liked himself way more than anyone else (CrossFit dudes - kind of its own religion). But talk about chemistry. Best hug at the end of the date. Wow. Maude was a little hot and bothered, in a good kind of way.

One of the worst was someone who DID NOT LOOK LIKE THEIR PROFILE PICS AND LIED ABOUT HOW TALL THEY WERE. That's all I'm saying, just gonna leave that right there.

It's been an interesting mixed bag of a journey. I feel no pressure or sense of urgency. I care less about second dates and more about meaningful connections, for which I can't say there have been any yet. Well, there is one. But jury is still out. Stay tuned - nickname: silver fox

I've still got my MBA to finish (getting VERY close), a new job to learn, a kid to get off to college and life is really pretty full right now. Would I like to have someone in it? Sure, but it will take a good long time and definitely 50 first dates for me to get comfortable and ready for something more.

In the meantime, I'll keep swiping left or right, meeting new people, making new friends and continuing to grow as a human and learn more about myself so I can be a better version for the next guy. And, maybe there won't be one, and I'm getting to be OK with that idea too.

Maude VS Grief...finally

This is going to be a tough read. 

Today has been very hard. I have had some hard days in the past several weeks, but today was the toughest. Today was the day the grief dam broke. 

But, before I get to that, I need to start from the beginning. 

2021 was a shit year. I left a good job for a terrible one, my marriage ended, and before the year was up, I had a sinking feeling I was going to lose my terrible job (which I did).

To be brutally honest, in the past twelve years I've checked off nearly every adult rite of passage: death of a parent (two actually, my Dad and Bonus Dad), got cancer, got divorced, and lost my job. These things tend to happen in waves, much like grief.

But I am an avoider. A total avoider - I am an "I'm OK" and "I'll be OK" person. I'm not a dweller on things. I'm not a processor of experiences. Things happen, I might cry for a bit, write a blog or two, start cracking jokes and move on. 

I came to recognize today that I tend to fill my life with things to plug the hole so that grief can stay stuck inside, deep in a place that I hope to keep safe, so it doesn't well up and make me feel all the feels. 

But until today I didn't see that was my way. 

I really, truly, and emphatically believed that I was OK. That I didn't need to just take a moment and wallow in the sadness. More than a moment- I didn't want to take any TIME. Some actual goddamned time to just feel it. Own it. Process it. Deal with it. 

But I should have.

So today, the dam broke. And the trigger was something related to my marriage but what it triggered was years of grief.

Grief has washed over me today - wave, after wave, after wave like the ocean relentlessly pounding a piece of driftwood against a rock.

When my Dad died, I started reading the Jason Bourne book series as an escape. Then I started drinking more, as an escape. I ate comfort food, as an escape.

I realized that those things were sending me to an early grave like my Dad, so I poured myself into getting healthy and in shape. Exercise became an escape. Obsessing about every calorie ever consumed became an escape. Running races and doing triathlons were an escape.

Then I got cancer and then...I survived it. Exercise, healthy living, and making funny jokes about having cancer on my blog became my escape. Starting a nonprofit became my escape. 

I lost every part of my womanhood in that battle, and I swore I was OK. That I didn't need to grieve. Oh, but I did. Yet I managed to push that grief down so deep that I almost forgot it was ever even there.

Then my marriage ended. Redecorating my house became my escape. Fixing my yard became an escape. Spending time with friends when I was alone became my escape. Starting my MBA (while for career purposes for sure) became an escape.

Then I lost my job. I was alone, sad, angry, terrified, frustrated, and embarrassed. I decided to start dating or try to anyway because I didn't want to be alone. And that was another escape. I filled my time with chats, dates, hangouts, and more. All it was really, was an escape from facing the very thing I didn't want to: needing to grieve so much loss.

It is important to this story to note that I met someone in the process of dating, early on. I hadn't felt that way about anyone in 22 years. 

But, he knew, in fact, he told me from the very beginning, that I needed to dwell on my sadness and grief. But I didn't believe him. In typical Maude-style I continued to try to convince myself that I didn't need to be sad. That I'd always created a space to be sad, feel grief, and process losses. But I don't, actually, do those things well or at all.

And he knew. In a very short period of time, this man knows me better than almost anyone else. And God bless him for keeping me in the friend zone. He is most certainly one of the best people I have met in a long time.

I put a lot on him, while in many ways he's still grieving some things of his own. And today I've spent the better part of it crying so hard my chest hurts and I cannot even breathe sometimes. Sobbing and catching my breath and sobbing some more.

And some of those tears are for him because I think I may have lost him as my friend. 

But the lion's share of my tears is grief over many personal losses over the years, plain and simple. But the most recent one I've been avoiding is the crushing loss of a 20-year marriage.

Part of my day today was spent in the car, with my kids, on a day trip. Once again, as the heaviness of the grief I was trying to avoid bore down on me today so much that I didn't think I could carry it, I decided to escape. We piled in the car and took off. And during those five hours, I was fine. 

But the minute I stepped foot back in my house, the grieving started again. I can't stop it now. I vacillate between sobbing, sniffling, crying, and moments of peace. Rinse and repeat. But I don't actually feel like I want to avoid the grief anymore. There's more crying than peace, but as the grieving stretches out, the peace lasts a little longer.

This is hard y'all. I hate crying. And I hate being vulnerable.

And, I really hate being alone. But these seem to be the things I need to do so that I can truly and finally grieve and not keep finding ways to avoid the hard parts, the jagged parts, the tough to swallow pill parts. 

I just need to let it go. I don't know how long it will take, and if you know me that's the worst part. I can't schedule it, pencil it in, anticipate it or plan for it.

It just is. 

And so I need to just be.

Maude VS Turning 50 and the "apocalist"

Well friends it has certainly been an eventful month for me! I started my new position and kept one foot in the dating pool with Coffee Shop Guy (date #3 from my most recent post). 

Unfortunately, that did not work out too well which makes me a little sad. In the end, I got friend-zoned, however I do hope that we will truly remain friends, even after I was kind of an a**hole about the situation. But that story is for another post.

This post is the reality check I got this week, the realization that I am turning 50 in a little over 6 months. A friend asked me how I felt about it and I'm really OK with it. Honestly. Just in case I wasn't though she recommended I make a 49 "apocalist" (like apocalypse! ha!) of 49 things I want to do before I hit that major mid-life milestone.

I thought about things I want to do that are just for me, things I can do with my children to make some memories and things I can do with my friends.  Some are big things, some are small, some are already planned and some I may not ever get to do. But, I'll give it all I've got just the same.

Here is my list (there may or may not have been some wine involved - but I'll never tell) in no particular order:

1. Run another marathon 
2. Get a pedicure 
3. Take a solo weekend trip to a yurt or cabin- just me, my rescue pup and an a**ton of wine
4. Renew my passport
5. Finish my MBA (if I stop writing this blog today maybe I can put a dent in it!) 
6. Kiss someone new (I may just have to grab some rando at a bar to make this happen...after I drink a lot of wine) 
7. Hike Table Rock 
8. Get up early and on purpose to watch the sunrise from someplace epic
9. Paddleboard at Quinn’s Pond
10. Get another tattoo
11. Sleep outside under the stars
12. Sail a boat again
13. Go to the Flying M and work on my book and drink coffee until I'm so jittery I can't see straight
14. Reconnect with an old boyfriend (no clue which one of many but it would be fun to catch up and reminisce I’m sure!) or maybe even just someone from growing up that I haven't seen or talked to in a long time. Either way. 
15. Go back to Camp Sweyolakan on Lake Coeur d'Alene 
16. Go wine tasting in Walla Walla 
17. Go country swing dancing again (after some wine)
18. Watch the sunset somewhere cool from the back of a truck bed. With wine.
19. Skinny dip (with or without wine)
20. Get a massage
21. Take a golf lesson (or lessons so I don't look like an idiot on the driving range)
22. Golf nine holes (like a real nine, not the mini-kind) with out without wine involved 
23. Take a flight lesson (no wine, but maybe after...)
24. Take each kid on an overnight getaway just the two of us
25. Go to some hot springs 
26. Get a facial 
27. Sleep in on a Saturday just because I can
28. Finish my book and get it published
29. Fly fish (again) - it has been awhile and land a monster! 
30. Hike up to Blackmon Peak and make another makeshift memorial for my Dad up there
31. Go on river rafting day trip with the kids 
32. Join a wine club and then cancel my membership because I have too much wine 
33. Shop the Boise Farmer's Market on a warm Saturday morning & buy stuff to make dinner for friends that evening
34. Listen to live music, outdoors somewhere
35. Sit on a beach somewhere, toes in the sand & wine in my hand and watch the sunset (lake, ocean, river, doesn't matter)
36. Go bowling with the kids
37. Go to a movie with the kids 
38. Go on a camping adventure with the kids 
39. Read a trashy novel
40. Take a nap in a hammock
41. Read a trashy novel while laying in a hammock
42. Get my dog to go out on the paddleboard with me
43. Get some amazing food from a really good food truck 
44. Plan a trip somewhere in the future that requires the use of my renewed passport
45. Go rock climbing (preferable outdoor but if all else fails I'll hit an indoor gym)
46. Spur of the moment drive to Shoshone Falls just to see its majestic beauty 
47. Finish my yard/outdoor living space and spend lots of time with friends out there this summer
48. Celebrate ten years of being cancer free 
49. Have an epic 50th birthday celebration just the way I want to do it. TBD. But there will for sure be some wine involved. 

That's it. That is the list. I'm printing it and putting it in my office so I can look at it and check things off! 

Many of these things will require a little help from my friends - so let me know if you're interested in joining me on any of these small adventures. While I'm learning to be OK doing things alone now, it's always more fun with friends. 

And wine. Do not forget the wine.

And dark chocolate.

Everything is better with wine and chocolate. And friends.