Skip to content

Posts tagged ‘bitterness fades’

The Bitter End . . . . . . . Not!

The Bitter End Pub on Burnside in Portland Oregon.

The Bitter End Pub on Burnside in Portland Oregon.

If there is one thing I’ve learned from my walkabout thus far, it is this:

All the clichés are true!

“Money doesn’t buy happiness.” “Time heals all wounds.”  “Life isn’t fair.” “It takes two to tango.”  “The squeaky wheel gets the grease.”  “Opposites attract.”  “Consider the source.”

And my current personal favorite:

“It ain’t over till it’s over.”

I’ve been thinking about the suicidal investors who leaped to their death during the stock market crash of 1929. If you have been reading my previous posts, you know I experienced a financial calamity of my own just before Christmas.

For me “It ain’t over till it’s over.” I know from experience that life goes on. Bitter ends aren’t really ends. Pain fades over time, and everything changes to something else eventually.

I have become adept at “making lemonade out of lemons,” and my turn around time for this has diminished with age.

This is not to say that I didn’t cry, panic, or have tantrums about my misfortune. I did all of that and more. I spent a lot of time in my “dark place”– telling myself I was a failure, and that I didn’t deserve the financial security that others seemed to have. I was sure I was going to be pushing my belongings around Portland in a shopping cart. (And this would be a dang wet and cold place to do that.)

After awhile,  I told myself to “get over myself” and to stop telling myself bad things about myself.

And, in between bouts of sniveling, I managed to come up with Plan B for my predicament.

Today I can be philosophical. Things are always changing. Some times things feel good and fair and sometimes they don’t. I read a blog post about negativity by Kyle Mercer who made the profound statement that “the universe is neutral.”

It was a huge relief to know that the universe wasn’t really out to get me.

I knew that if I was going to be happy, it was going to be, as they say, “an inside job.”

So my new advice to myself is (and this is no cliche): “Listen to the voice inside you that wants you to be happy.”

This is perhaps the most profound lesson of my walkabout.

I am determined to live in this city and continue my walkabout.  I am working my social media business a bit more and with some success. This is not the worst thing – it is my calling after all. I love being the walkabout woman, but I also love the adventure of being an entrepreneur. So . . .

“All is not lost.”

“Necessity is the mother of invention.”

More than anything I am curious about where these new developments will take me.

Curiosity will conquer fear even more than bravery will.” and “Better late than never.”

Advertisements

Home is where the heart is . . .

Me with my baby grand-niece Mia.

I was interviewed yesterday by a freelance writer who is writing about the Walkabout Woman phenomena.

He noticed that I was traveling without a companion, except he used the word “boyfriend.” This gave me a chuckle. I hadn’t really thought about that.

But he’s right . . . there is no partner, boyfriend, husband, soul mate or best friend with me. I am on my own.

And of course, this level of self-reliance would have been unthinkable to my younger self – so I get the question.

For better or worse, and through no special effort on my part, I have become independent and fairly competent.  I am outgoing and like to meet new people, but I enjoy solitude and my own company a lot too. Part of it is that I was a single mother for years and I am used to doing everything myself.  Part of it is I am enjoying the freedom of not having to put the needs of young children first.

I also like not having to compromise to accommodate another person.

I was married for 20 years and have been divorced for 10, so I know — single or in a relationship — there are pluses and minuses to both. How I am choosing to live my life is not for everybody.

My marriage was a very significant part of my life. Until recently, I slept strictly on one (my) side of the bed. At night my nature sounds machine soothed me because ocean waves sounded like another person breathing.

I don’t believe you abruptly “get over” or “heal” from these significant relationships. Rather — inch by inch — the passage of time creates a distance. Drama seems silly, memories are re-framed, bitterness fades and you give up the certainty that you were right about everything. Real peace comes from grieving the losses and honoring what you had.

I am not completely there, but I know that is where I am heading.

And as I anticipated, my walkabout has stirred up my feelings about this relationship. While spending the first leg of this journey with my family of origin, (and holding my baby grand-niece), I have had strong, but short-lived, attacks of homesickness — not for my childhood home, or the home I recently left in Ashland — but for the home I had with my husband when our children were small. They say “home is where the heart is,” and it appears there is a huge part of my heart still there.

During the summer, as I prepared for my walkabout, I purchased a painting from my friend, artist Cynthia Gott.  When I saw it in her studio, I knew I had to have it. It is a Day of the Dead piece featuring a skeleton with a top hat and a flower in his heart.

I carried the painting into my house, along with the mail and some groceries, and set it all down while I did other things. Later, when I went into my bedroom, I was surprised. There at the head of the bed was the skelly painting — in what had been my Ex’s place when we were married!

The subconscious works in interesting ways!

As of now, I am sleeping almost in the center of the bed . . . but not quite.

 

%d bloggers like this: