A Man Named Hector

Hector is my neighbor.  He lives across the street from me and was one of the first people to greet me when I moved into this neighborhood two years ago. He is absolutely delightful.  Always smiling, at 85 years young he still keeps a meticulously landscaped yard, adorns his house with the most festive of Christmas lights, and drives a mean snow blower when the brutality of the winter sets in.  What most stood out to me when I met him was how he spoke of his wife.  "Mama" is how he referenced her, ocasionally slipping in her name (Maria), He spoke of her beauty, what a wonderful wife and mother she was, and what a great cook.  (I guess the old adage is true...the way to a man's heart is through his stomach).  He also told me that she suffered a stroke ten years ago...a stroke that left her paralyzed. For a short time, she lived in a nursing home but because he could not bear to see her there, he brought her home and had been taking care of her ever since.  He bathed her, dressed her, cooked for her, fed her and tended to her every need.  He shared this with me very naturally, not with any amount of sadness, but almost with heart filled joy.  It was his privilege to care for this woman who shared his life...and it reminded me of the way my stepmom cared for my father.  She, too, tended to his every need, very patiently (most of the time), very lovingly, and with the determination that he would be treated as a king even as the disease of Parkinson's ripped away every ability that he once had. This act of selflessness to me speaks of true love.  You take your vows for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, and I witnessed firsthand the depth of this meaning.  I can only hope that my life will still bring me a partner who would go to these lengths for me if need be.

I noticed that Hector did not decorate his house for Christmas this year as he had normally done. He did manage to string a few lights but it was not the holiday display that the neighborhood had become accustomed to. While I found this odd, I gave it no more than a moment of thought and then continued with the hectic life that at times consumes me.  The holidays came and went and life continued as it always does.  Hours turned into days; days turned into weeks; weeks turned into months. When the snow finally came, I went outside to shovel and saw Hector once again.  He was there with his snow blower, jovial as always, stopping to say hello, making sure I was ok.   He reminded me, as he always does, that if I ever need anything, all I have to do is knock on his door.  I did mention how much I missed all his Christmas lights this year.  Holding back tears he told me he could just not do what he normally does this year.  You see, he said "My mama, my Maria..she died."  My heart sank. How could this man live directly across the street from me, suffer such a loss, and me, his neighbor not even know?  My heart broke for him as he shared with me the agony he felt the day he had to call the ambulance and how he knew that his sweet Mama would not be coming home.  He then proceeded to tell me that they shared 62 wonderful years together and then said "I will see her again. She's waiting for me."

I am not one that is generally lost for words, but at this moment I found myself struggling.  I wanted to share words of comfort but I know that words do little when your heart breaks for the loss of your love.  I have found that sometimes, the best thing to do is simply listen.  That I did while he slowly collected himself throughout the conversation.  His smile returned once again and conversation shifted to the snow that had come from out of nowhere creating havoc for drivers everywhere.  The snow hit two days before Valentine's Day and I wondered if Hector and Maria had celebrated this day at all.  Not all couples do, but regardless this day is symbolic of love and I wondered how he would be feeling as reminders of this day flood the radio and television.  As for me, I haven't had much of a Valentine's Day celebration in many years.  I haven't had a partner that made this day special for me in a long time and in all honesty, perhaps I had a skewed vision of what this day was supposed to be.

I left the conversation that day with a mixture of perplexed emotions.  My heart ached for Hector and the loss of his Maria.  I was very disappointed in myself that I did not know that she had passed.  I was a bit angry that even while noticing the difference in Hector's holiday decorations, I never took the time to find out if he was ok.  That is what's sometimes difficult about the hustle and bustle of the world we live in.  Neighborhoods aren't neighborhoods anymore.  They are often transient, with people coming and going, all too often not even knowing the names of the people who live right next door.  A feeling of sadness came over me when I thought about my lack of community when it came to my own neighborhood.

I decided that I wanted to do something for Hector on Valentine's Day.  I wanted him to know that someone was thinking of him.  I made him a pan of lasagna and brought it to him.  His eyes lit up when he saw me approaching his house.  He invited me inside and immediately apologized, lamenting that he is "poor."  I believe what he meant is humble, because there is nothing poor about his house.  It is modest, but it is charming. It is full of mementos that I can imagine Maria collected through the years with delight.  Photos of his children adorn every wall, along with old black and white photos of  his family in his home country of Peurto Rico,  We sat and talked for a while and I asked him if he met Maria in the United States or in Puerto Rico.  He delightfully told me the story of how he met "Mama."  He was in the service and Maria became his pen pal.  She would write to him every week.  I don't know how this happened but it seemed that it occurred through some formal organization that arranged for correspondence with servicemen.  He did have a fiance, though, in his home country of Puerto Rico and his plan was to finish his tour of duty, return to Puerto Rico and marry and then bring his bride to New York City to live where other members of his family had come.  When he got out of the service, however, he went to New York City and had the chance to meet his pen pal.  It was love at first sight.  The words he used "my heart, it just knew" brought me joy on this day that I would spend without a partner.  He told me that he promptly returned to Puerto Rico to bear the unfortunate news to his fiance that he would marry another.  He did not want to hurt that woman, whom he described as "so beautiful."  However, he knew his destiny was to marry Maria.  Within seven months they were married and in the next 62 years built a wonderful family and life.  He then told me about his children, including his son in law who met his daughter at the age of 16.  The courting occurred at home. His daughter was not allowed to go out with him. If he wanted to see her he had to come to the house and that is where they visited and "dated" until they married. He showed me photos of their wedding and of their children. His son in law died from cancer at the young age of 48.  He also showed me photos of his son who had also passed away from cancer at the age of 50.  He had no amount of sadness in his voice as he spoke of his son in law and his son, though I have no doubt their passing at the time was very difficult.  Now he rejoices in the life that they had and the memories that they built, blessings as he said often throughout our conversation.   He was very excited about the food I had brought him. He was going to call his daughter and tell her immediately what a nice thing I did.  He then invited me to stop over any time and visit and reminded me again that if I need anything, ever, all I had to do was ask.

I left Hector's home that day happy that I was able to visit with him.  I enjoyed hearing his stories and learning more about his family.  As delighted as he was to have my company and as much as I lifted his spirits, what he does not know is how much he lifted mine.  Each of us gets caught up in our own lives all too often and push aside the things that are truly important.  You see, nothing is as important as family, as the connection to one another, as kindness, compassion, laughter, celebrating moments, sunshine, children's laughter.   It is true that life is about the dash.  Hector provided a wonderful remembrance of that for me on a day meant to celebrate love.

People are placed into our lives for a reason and I truly believe Hector was placed in mine to remind me to slow down a little and celebrate the moments.  I went to dinner that evening with a group of female friends...my tribe.  We laughed, we swapped stories of our dating lives, we told each other how beautiful we are, we talked with the other restaurant guests who all seemed very intrigued that a group of women were out together on Valentine's Day, and we engaged the restaurant manager and staff in conversation.  We took pictures and each of us admitted that this was the best Valentine's Day we had had in a long time.  This was a celebration of love and I ended the evening feeling more optimistic than I had in a long time.  Thank you, Hector, for reminding me that love is all around us...and the dash is what makes it so.

Selling your Soul for Shoveled Snow

It's evening and I am winding down for the night.  My body is sore.  Every muscle feels like it's been run over by a Mack truck coming at me at full speed.  Despite the pain, it feels good.  I've shoveled more than 20 inches of snow in the last 48 hours.  Come the wee hours of the morning, I will be shoveling once again because the snow continues to fall.  This is not unusual.  I live in Upstate New York where winter brings snow, and lots of it.

It takes me two hours to shovel my driveway, which, while I have no idea of the square footage, is large enough to park five cars.  Two hours of back breaking, knee aching work.  But as I shovel, I am intensely aware of the feeling of satisfaction that has come over me.  I am quite content to be shoveling my driveway. In fact, I am feeling proud and accomplished to do so.  Don't worry...I haven't flipped my lid.  However, it wasn't so long ago that I was caught up in the pattern of selling my soul for shoveled snow.

A very strange statement, isn't it?  It's true nonetheless.  I will explain.  For three years, I was involved in a very unhealthy relationship that for all intents and purposes, robbed me of my soul.  I don't blame the man I was involved with. We are all responsible for our own actions and I own mine, but for three years I stayed with someone that every single day took a little bit more of my peace of mind. Shoveling the snow made me think of this man - not in a sad way - but in a way that reminds me of just how far I've come.

When I met "John" I found him to be very charismatic...handsome, charming, quick witted, and personable.   It had been a couple of years since I dated anyone and my last relationship left me broken-hearted.  I slipped into a cocoon and stayed there, focusing on nothing more than work.  But then came John and had a mission...to break down the walls I surrounded myself with.  I didn't know at the time that this was his game and also had no idea that I was about to dive right in to a relationship with a narcissist.

John greeted me warmly and almost instantly became attentive to my every need.  He made it clear that he was "my man" and as such, was proud to take care of anything I might need.  It's not that I am not capable of caring for myself.  It's that I had done it for so long that I was tired.  It felt good to have a man "do" for me and it did make me feel like a princess...for just a little while.  Need my lawn cut?  No problem.  John handled it.  Need painting done?  On it.  Need my car repaired?  No worries. Need my snow shoveled?  "Baby you'll never have to lift another snow shovel again."

About eight months into the relationship, we had "the talk."  Exclusivity it was, even though for the last eight months I had not seen anyone else.  Let's remember I hadn't dated anyone in two years and never could date multiple people anyway.  Once I'm in, I'm in. However, John was dating other people when I met him and to his explanation..."we're all dating other people until we're not."

At first I thought I would just go about the relationship enjoying it for what it was.  I had a very handsome man at my side when I wanted one.  And I was being taken care of in a way that I hadn't been in a very long time.  It seemed that I was calling the shots and it felt empowering to me.  But the more I seemed to get caught up in the relationship, the more uneasy it became for me.

After we had "the talk" things seemed to shift.  John went from someone enjoying the chase to someone who seemed content in his victory.  He was very comfortable in the fact that I had openly declared that yes, he was my man and there would be no others.  At first, it was subtle.  His phone would ring and he would send it to voicemail followed by immediate texting.  He became very secretive about his activities and he would get defensive...very defensive...if I dared to question him at all.  I just had this feeling...this sinking feeling...that despite "the talk" he was not living up to his end of the bargain.

When women have this sixth sense thing going on, there is nothing we won't do to hunt down the truth.  I became obsessed with proving myself right.  Every conversation became about finding out the truth and the more I inquired, the more he lied.  Blatantly lied.  Accused me of being insecure. Became verbally abusive.  Stormed out of the house.  Ignored me for a few days.  And then came back with some huge romantic gesture to prove just how much he "loved" me.  The pattern would repeat and every time it did, more and more of me slipped away.  That's what narcissists do, though.  They eat away at your soul and in this process, they control you.

The pattern continued.  There was the time I saw emails between him and someone he swore was an ex.  Not true.  There was the time I saw his car in front of another "ex's" apartment building and he swore he was visiting his cousin who just so happened to live in the same building.  Not true.  Oh, and there was a time he went to Texas for a week with another "ex".  This is a trip he told me was taking to visit family.  I actually believed him until I saw photos of her vacation to Texas all over Facebook. Ah the world of social media.  He exploded when I confronted him and lamented that yes, he did stay in a timeshare with his "friend" but it was only because they were in Texas at the same time and it made sense to split the cost of travel.  "Nothing happened," he said.  Oh, and then reminded me of just how insecure I am.  This seemed to be how he handled his own lies...by denying, denying, denying and by focusing the blame on me.  For a while, he had me questioning my sanity and in this process, I slipped into a very dark place.  I became more and more isolated and really wondered if it was my insecurity driving me to this place.  I was happy, even grateful, for the crumbs I continued to receive from this man because he made me feel like I should be grateful to have anything at all. 

How could I stay in a relationship that was so clearly unhealthy?  I don't know.  We've all done it for reasons that we will probably never fully understand.  At a certain point, though, I decided that enough was enough.  It was when my dad's illness progressed to the point where he was no longer able to care for himself.  Something about this snapped me out of this place I was in and I became aware of the fragility of time and just how little of it we have on this earth.  I no longer wanted to live my life with someone that didn't value me.  That could not commit to me, truly commit to me.  That thought so little of me that they could outright lie to me without batting an eye.

During visits with my father, when he had moments of clarity, he would speak to me and tell me how proud he was of me.  This filled me with guilt because if he understood what I was allowing in my personal life, he would not have been proud.  But I am very blessed that I had a father that didn't judge.  That loved me unconditionally and in a way, I think he did know.  And I think this was his way of reminding me of who he raised me to be.  

I broke off this relationship and I haven't looked back since.  My ex still calls me from time to time and has on occasion tried to ingratiate himself into my life once again.  I very respectfully decline. This has made me feel so very proud of my strength.  So, as I settle in for the evening, full of muscle soreness, I speak out loud "thank you Daddy.  I am no longer selling my soul for shoveled snow."

The Power of the Tribe

Good morning friends and Happy Monday!  I must admit...my bed was very cozy this morning but alas, when the dog has to go outside, you've got no choice but to throw back the covers and greet the day!

I am deep in thought over the events of the past weekend.  Reflection leads me to perusing the last several weeks, last several months, last several years.  As you all know, I began a journey more than a year ago, to reclaim my life, my health, my peace of mind. This journey has been fascinating in so many ways.  For example, I found myself doing something this past weekend that 12 months before, I would have never done.  I physically couldn't have done it...and because of those limitations, it would have never been a thought to begin with.  But here we are, a year later, 118 pounds gone, and I am surrounded by a group of women, several of whom I only recently met, that provide unconditional support and motivation.  Being around this group has given me a brand-new perspective on life, on myself, on my goals and my ability to achieve them.  In fact, in a recent discussion with a dear friend, and a member of this group, we both shared that we have a newfound peace in our life that neither of us has felt in a long time...and for myself, I can probably say never.

My theory is this...women have a difficult time in relationship with other women.  Some will read this statement and disagree, but this forum for me is about keeping it real and thus I don't hesitate to put all my 'ish out there.  I struggled with female friendships all through my youth, my teenage years, my twenties and even thirties. ("Mean Girls" was not made without merit, y'all!)  And yes, I get there are plenty of women who go through their lives with their bff's and don't experience anything negative, ever.  But you are far and few between, my fair ladies.   For many women, it starts when we are very young, intensifies in middle and high school, gets a little trickier in college and hides itself in the 20's.  I honestly believe that it's not until we are in our 30's (and for some of us even later) when we finally realize that as women, we do so much better when we lift one another.  It's a tough, competitive world as it is...and we all need our champions.  There is something magical that happens when women champion one another.  If only we learned this earlier in our lives, the world be full of strong, empowered women supporting one another!

I started a class recently.  A six-week class that I invited a friend to take with me.  She and I have been on the same journey of sorts and I thought she would enjoy it.  At the very least, I thought it would entertain us.  Neither of us anticipated the strength that we would gain from it.  It isn't the content necessarily.  Yes, there were some definite aha moments throughout but I've been in therapy for years so there are many things that I kind of, sort of, already have explored.  What the class did was bring those things to reality once again..but with the unconditional support of my fellow "sisters."  It created a safe space where we could put all of our insecurities out there with no fear of judgement.  Instead we received unconditional love, right where we were.  Being with my therapist is always a safe space for me but let's face it.  My therapist doesn't love me.  My sisters...they do!  Over the course of these six weeks, new friendships formed, healing began to occur, the participants became stronger, and we all stepped outside of our comfort zone a little.   The bond formed early on  and the end of the six weeks, it was clear that these women were now my tribe.  In fact, we are all each other's tribe.  I can't quite explain the feeling that comes with it, but it's a powerful one.  And it's a comforting one.

It's not that I haven't had friendships until this point of my life.  I've had lots of them.  And still do, but I have often struggled.  Take my very best friend from high school.  We were inseparable.  I was the maid of honor in her wedding.  She later became my son's godmother.  After her separation, she decided that it was ok to sleep with my boyfriend.  In the course of one weekend my world shattered.  I lost my best friend. I lost a man that I was crazy about. And my son lost his Godmother. Later, I would form a close friendship with a coworker. I supported her through the loss of her mother, her divorce, and the breakup of the first relationship she had after her divorce.  I got a promotion at work. She got envious.  I would later form another very close friendship with a coworker.  She died.  (Gosh do I miss her!).  What I am trying to portray is the pattern.  My bff's either betrayed me...or left me. Hence, I did not have the kind of bonds with women that were portrayed on "Sex and the City" or "Waiting to Exhale."  But oh, how I wanted them!  Who wouldn't? The group of women represented in these fictional writings were all powerful, independent women that supported each other through triumphs and tragedies...with an equal outpouring of love.  That is what I found when I happened upon my "tribe" and it has given me a source of strength that propels me forward.  I know without a doubt that these women will be there to listen, lift me up, share honesty, celebrate and pass the Kleenex along with the ice cream if need be.  Without hesitation. Without judgement.  Without prejudice.  How powerful is it to know that you've got a group of people that have your back no matter what?  To have a group of people that you can be your most vulnerable with and not be afraid of the backlash?  How often do we as women keep silent about our failures or don't taunt our successes because well, that would not be ladylike? How often do we defer to others in even the simplest of things such as "where do you want to go to dinner?"  And, how often are we the ones to compromise in relationships...all relationships...to keep the peace even when we know inherently that there are things we shouldn't compromise on?

This is what my tribe has taught me.  No, not taught, just reminded me emphatically.  "I am the total f'cking package."  And I deserve to live my life accordingly.

Ladies, get yourself a tribe.  It will be the best gift you give yourself, ever. 

PS to my tribe members...I love you and appreciate you all!