Tuesday 16 June 2015

Dating After Divorce: It's like riding a bike.

You know what’s funny about being divorced? Okay, follow along here:

Imagine having a relationship was like learning to ride a bike. And let’s say you were going out for a few years but then you broke up, or ‘fell off your bike’. People would say, “Aw, no big deal! Dust yourself off! Get back on a bike! Try again! You’ll get it this time! Tour de France guys fall all the time and they break records! Go for it!”

But if you get married and divorced, it’s like people saw that fall and then if you go to climb on the bike again, they’re like, “Whoooaaa there, honey. You sure you wanna do that? Where’s your helmet? Shouldn’t you get elbow pads? You should really get some knee pads. And wrist guards. You know what, maybe just put some training wheels back on. Have you considered switching to a tricycle? What’s your plan for dealing with another fall? Maybe you should take another form of transport. Here is a shopping cart. Let someone else push you. No, just keep the helmet on for now.”

Well, enough is enough. Falling off a bike doesn’t make you permanently bike-tarded, people. If anything, it means you’ve learned the limits of a bike—its angles, curves, brakes, and speeds—and in some ways now you’re better prepared than ever to ride a bike. Because you also know what it feels like to fall off of one. And you survived. Some people are so afraid of falling off their bike, they stay on the wrong one for years. So no, I’m not going to be afraid of riding a bike. But I’m definitely wiser now about choosing a bike. With every fall I’ve taken, I’ve narrowed down my bike needs and I have actually reached a place where I’m now grateful for my falls, because they’ve taught me so much.

So yeah, I’ll pass up the ride in the shopping cart, thanks. I’ve got a handle on this bike thing. 

The Long Protective Retreat

Well, I closed my computer in January, took a long deep breath, and got busy livin’. Yep, just walked away from blogging and writing in general. I actually closed up shop in a lot of different ways: I retreated from excessive social gatherings, avoided unnecessary stresses, and just spent time working on my shtuff. Some of that was the house—the house I bought three years ago this month, the house that has been both my nest and the bane of my existence. I worked on my career and my business. I worked on my health, even quitting smoking last month. And maybe most importantly, I immersed myself in the cultivation of a new blossoming relationship. I retreated from the ‘mind clutter’ that can come from having too many cooks in the kitchen: too many opinions, whether real or perceived. Too much oversharing, as we are so fond of doing these days. I wanted to do some deep rescue and recovery on myself. And good things came when I did.

But I missed writing. So here I am.
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