BOSSY BETTY

Betty's Big Weekend

2012-02-23T04:00:00.000-08:00

Hi everybody!

This past weekend, I just had to get out of town, so a friend and I headed up the coast to Santa Barbara.

The beach was the first stop!

The Botanical Gardens were next.

We stopped by the Mission.

This was in the window of the Mission. Hummm.... Handy!

We spent lots of time on State Street, strolling up and down, enjoying the weather, the people, the food, and the time away from our usual routine.

We had a great time getting away and livin' it up in Santa Barbara!

Happy Thursdays to you all!

Poetry Tuesday: "I Will Fix You" by Coldplay

2012-02-21T04:00:00.000-08:00

When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
And I...

Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face

And I...
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you

Monday Morning Flowers

2012-02-20T04:00:00.000-08:00

Hello Beautiful Ones!

Happy Monday Morning!

I am sending you lots of good thoughts for a wonderful week ahead.

You have power over your mind - not outside events.

Realize this, and you will find strength.

-- Marcus Aurelius

Whistle in the Wilderness or Too Loved to Fail

2012-02-17T04:00:00.000-08:00

My friend Cathie and I go on a five-mile walk nearly every Friday morning. We usually walk around our neighborhoods, but a few weeks ago, she took me out to a big, hilly field on the outskirts of town. It’s not an official hiking trail, but the field is criss-crossed with paths that go over and up hills, around high-standing grasses and bushes.

As we walked through the low valleys and steep hills that hide the rocky crevices between them, Cathie told me when her sons were young, she brought them to this same field to run and play. Before she let them go, however, she gave each of them a whistle and told them if they ever felt like they were lost or scared, to just blow the whistle and she’d come and find them.

This story resonated with me.

A few months ago, I had believed I would stay married the rest of my life, but then I was thrown (pushed) off that path completely, without warning or preparation. Suddenly, I was in a landscape I didn’t recognize. Unstable, unsteady, and unprepared, I couldn’t get my bearings. I was lost. I felt as if I were in a hole and didn’t have the strength to get up and move out of it.

Scared and cold, I felt an unfamiliar and frightening darkness encroaching.

Then, in desperation, I gathered a tiny amount of strength and sent out a faint and feeble whistle for help.

Miraculously and instantly, my friends and family stopped in their tracks when they heard it. They turned from their own lives and came to help me. Each of them, in his or her own way, rushed to find me. They helped me up, pulled me back on the track, nursed my wounds and stood, watching me walk for a little bit before they hesitantly went back to their own lives.

This network of good people (including my blogging buddies) came together to form a braided chain, which I gratefully grabbed onto to help me up and out of the deepest of hole of my life.

One night, while I was still in early-recovery mode, I was at dinner with a group of my good friends. They had dragged me out of my house, out of my cocoon of pain and into the land of the living. There was laughter all around the table, and I found myself smiling for the first time in weeks. I thought how lucky I was to have these people in my life and then I thought of all my other friends, my family members, and my dear, sweet sons.

Suddenly these words came into my head: I am too loved to fail.

It was a beautiful, simple phrase that I heard again as I looked at the faces of the people surrounding me. I am too loved to fail.

I understood with all my being that this phrase was not a tribute to me, but to all those people who had listened and responded to my whistle in the wilderness.

I knew at that moment I had no choice but to go on and succeed in my new life.

I had too many people surrounding me, supporting me, believing in me.

It was time to honor their faith in me.

So, here I am now, making my own way on the path again, and even on those days when the visibility is low, when the rain starts to fall, and the trail is rocky, I plunge ahead because that is what I need to do. That is what I want to do.

It feels good to be back with the other hikers of the world. I am no longer huddled in that dark hole, but upright, strong and striding ahead, on the crest of a new path, and, I have to say, the view from this vantage point looks incredibly promising.

Since my life is not in emergency mode any longer, my friends and family have been able to relax some too. That braided chain with its many strong fibers has, over the course of these past few weeks, softened, relaxed and spread out to form a net underneath me that I know is there should I ever start to fall again.

The best part of my recovery? Now, that my own whistle no longer fills my ears, I can once again be attentive and listen for others who need help.

In the end, I believe that is what makes us fully human; that is our duty in the world.

We are here to help each other out, to give each other support, and to tell those who need it the most:

Here, take my hand.

You can do it.

You are too loved to fail.

Poetry Tuesday: "Secret Agent Man" by Joyce Sutphen

2012-02-14T04:00:00.000-08:00

Secret Agent Man

You looked so good at the top of the stairs
that I wonder if you might consider

standing at the bus stop near Franklin
and 22nd at about 6:30 AM,

wearing a dark overcoat and a red
scarf, nodding (just slightly) when

I pass, and I wouldn't mind looking
Out my office window at about

10 AM and seeing you (so small I
couldn't be sure) waving from

the far corner of the parking lot,
and then, at lunch, you could be

the mysterious man sitting in the bar,
the one who never turns around until

I am almost out the door with friends
who would have no idea who you are,

and it would be wonderful to see you
disguised as a UPS man, coming in

at 3 PM with a large package
full of various useless things

and a note, telling me exactly
where I could find you later on tonight.

--Joyce Sutphen

Happy Valentine's Day to ALL my Betty People!

Extra: This just in!

I want to thank Robyn at Life By Chocolate for choosing my entry as a winner in her recent Valentine's Day Contest.

It was fun and great (cheap) therapy too!

Thanks, Robyn!

Monday Morning Flowers

2012-02-13T04:00:00.000-08:00

Good Monday Morning to you, My People!

It was another good weekend here.

Hope you are starting your week off with a smile on your face and optimism in your heart!

(A spare candy bar in your pocket wouldn't hurt anything either.)

Have a happy week!

The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance.

--Alan Watts

Sigh No More

2012-02-10T04:00:00.000-08:00

We are in the first weeks of the new semester at school and there is still plenty of that special brand of optimism that comes with new beginnings. I am so grateful because, ironically, as the new semester begins, my marriage keeps marching toward its bitter end.

In addition to the emotional turmoil that must be dealt with, there is the division of assets. A long-term marriage creates quite a little business that must be broken down, liquidated, and divided. Pride, emotions and cold hard dollars are involved.

It’s a tough process that can shake even the most confident of people in normal circumstances. Inflict it upon someone who is still recovering from the shock of a life-changing split, and it’s brutal. Letters from the opposing lawyer meant to intimidate, coerce, and bully must be read with ironclad emotional armor in place.

It’s hideous.

There is no other word for it.

However, I am lucky enough to have a job that challenges me and transports me to another level of being. When I am engaged with my classes, my brain is in a happy place. I get to devote my days to my students and to making the world a better place. Working at a community college means I have the added bonus of interacting with students of all ages, from all walks of life.

As I learn more about my students, I realize that many of them have come through much worse circumstances and have overcome greater obstacles than I face right now. And yet there they are, still willing to take a chance, to step inside an unfamiliar classroom and, especially in the case of writing, put their self-esteem in the hands of this sassy blond teacher who probably looks a lot like other teachers they’ve had over the years.

The other day I was walking around my classroom and I saw a student with a tattoo on his forearm that caught my eye. It was a simple phrase, written in a flowing script. “Sigh No More,” it read.

“Tell me about your tattoo,” I said. The young man looked at me and explained, “Well, you know, sometimes bad stuff happens in life, but you have to move on. You can't spend your life in regret. You can't dwell on the past. You move on and life goes on. No regrets." He pointed to his tattoo and shrugged, "Sigh no more.”

I could feel the tears starting to come to my eyes, but I caught myself before they fell. Instead, I smiled. "If I gave you a Sharpie, would you write that on my arm?” I asked. He looked surprised, but nodded and said, "Well, OK, sure."

Later, after class, he asked if we could take a picture together. As we posed together with our forearms outstretched, he said, “This is one of those days I am always going to remember.”

“Me too." I said with a lump in my throat, a smile on my face, and gratitude in my heart for all the optimistic young teachers I am blessed to be surrounded by every day.

Mental U-Turn

2012-02-08T04:00:00.000-08:00

Because this divorce was not my idea, (not to mention that it was quite a surprise) it took me some time to absorb the magnitude of the change of direction my life would be taking.

However, even once I understood what would be happening, I dragged my feet. I delayed in getting a lawyer. I hesitated with paperwork. I put off meetings.

Each request from HOB’s very ambitious and determined lawyer felt like an assault, and I reacted by crawling further into my shell, hiding from the storm of nightmarish activity. I bemoaned my circumstances. How did I get here? Why did this happen? What am I going to do now?

In short, I felt like a victim and I behaved like one.

And like all things that we avoid out of fear, the issues and problems grew inside my head and the worst case scenarios took over, threatening my nearly non-existent stability. When the phone rang, I got a knot in my stomach. I winced when I opened my e-mail, fearing another missive about the divorce. When I got the mail, I held my breath, praying there would not be more information about the split.

Then, one day a few weeks ago, I got sick of myself.

I don’t even know what made me change course, but I decided to take a mental U-turn right then and there. I decided from that moment on, I would not be a victim any longer. Instead, I would be an active participant in this whole thing. It’s clear it’s going to happen, so why not?

My mama didn’t raise me to be a victim.

The next day I got a request for my W-2 from HOB’s lawyer. Before, I would have been tearful, hesitant, resentful, and slow. Instead, I immediately made a copy and got it to my lawyer, smiling at the receptionist and wishing her a happy day.

As part of my mental U-turn, I thought it would be good to be able to say with vim and vigor, “I want this divorce.” Alone and in the isolation of my car, I forced myself to say it aloud one day. But honestly? It stuck in my throat. It was hard to say. This worried me at first, but then I realized that no one really wants to be divorced. I do wish my marriage would have lasted, but it didn’t. So, while I can’t shout that particular sentiment from the rooftops, I can gleefully and confidently say, “I want to get through this, so I can get on with the new, exciting life I know awaits me.”

These days, I still hesitate at the mailbox, phone, and before I open my e-mail, but now I use that time to take a deep breath and say to myself, “Whatever it is, I can handle it.” Though I know difficult issues are ahead, I've got enough of my mojo back to believe I can deal with what needs to be dealt with. (Sometimes I may not be too graceful about how I handle things, but that's OK too. I'm going for progress, not perfection.)

In short, it’s time to stand up and reclaim some of my power.

I am a smart, capable woman. I have friends who believe in me. I have sons who love me and are proud of me. I have a family who encircles me in love and supports me without end. Does that sound like a victim?

I don’t think so.

I think that sounds like a woman who has all the tools she needs to finish up one part of her life and who has a terrific foundation on which to build an even better one.

Thanks, Betty People for all your support and love!

Poetry Tuesday: "Winter Is the Best Time" by David Budbill

2012-02-07T04:00:00.000-08:00

Winter Is the Best Time

Winter is the best time
to find out who you are.

Quiet, contemplation time,
away from the rushing world,

cold time, dark time, holed-up
pulled-in time and space

to see that inner landscape,
that place hidden and within.

--David Budbill

Monday Morning Flowers

2012-02-06T04:00:00.000-08:00

Monday Morning Flowers!

Here's wishing you and yours a happy week ahead!

Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars.

You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.

--C.S. Lewis

Betty at the Getty

2012-02-03T04:00:00.000-08:00

Hi All,

I had a great time roaming around the Getty Museum this past weekend.

I decided to do some artsy shots just for kicks.

Hope you enjoy them!

Reflections

Sitting Docent

Three Trees

Family Tree

Bird in Tree

Happy Fridays!

Paper/Work

2012-02-01T04:00:00.000-08:00

Books, essays, cards, letters.

Over the years, I have come to associate paper and ink with good things.

However, when the packet of divorce papers was plopped on my doorstep just before Thanksgiving, (Happy Holidays!) I knew I was about to enter a new landscape, one foreign to me—the frozen tundra of purposefully emotionless language. I felt the chill of the white papers immediately.

Indeed, so forbidding is this landscape to average people that we need to hire high-price guides just to make our way though it.

I had known this day was coming and had tried to prepare for it by looking up the forms in advance, so I opened the packet slowly, mentally reviewing what I had seen online and I bundled up emotionally, preparing for the bitter cold of the paper blizzard within.

Yep. There were the frosty forms all right, put together and topped off with a cheery little letter from HOB’s attorney. She had thoughtfully provided a little rundown of the action to follow in the packet.

I scanned the letter and then took a deep breath and flipped to the next page.

That’s when I saw it.

At the bottom of the Petition for Dissolution of Marriage, I saw his signature--the familiar scrawl of the man I had lived with for thirty years, of the man who had once loved me with all his heart. How well I knew those loops, the way the "i" in his name was dotted, the curl at the end of his (our) last name.

In all the years of our marriage I had associated that signature with good. Love letters, the co-signature on the deed to our house, birth certificates, cards (one beautiful one proclaiming his undying love just a week before he left). I sat and cried seeing that familiar ribbon of ink, starkly contrasted with all the block, uniform lettering that otherwise covered the documents.

I rubbed my finger over that signature as if I could discern his attitude at the time of signing.

Did his pen hover above the line with any sort of hesitation? A forced suspension of all emotion? Was there a gritty resolve? A giddy feeling of elation?

The paper, of course, revealed nothing. The signature just sat there, looking maddeningly ordinary.

I knew in order to get through the rest of the papers, I had to distance myself psychologically.

Since I am an English teacher, a writer, and a sometime editor, I have done my share of reviewing writing and passing suggestions on to writers. I went into that mode. It was the safest one for me. In my head I started a draft of my review and suggestions for improvement. It went something like this:

To: HOB’s lawyer. Re: Your cover letter.

Nice job in being succinct and to the point in what was enclosed in the packet of papers. However, you may want to reconsider the use of the line “Looking forward to working with you on this matter.” Is this appropriate in this case?

Perhaps if we were planning a brunch or a charity event, this sentence might work, but are you really looking forward to participating in the sad task of dissolving a marriage of thirty years? This well-worn (and perhaps a bit too revealing) line may be seen as insensitive to the involved parties. Consider a simple, understated “Sincerely” instead.

To the State of California: Re: The heading of "You Are Being Sued" (followed by the culturally-sensitive Spanish translation.)
First of all, I find the use of the passive voice an interesting choice here. Seriously consider why you are using it and proceed from there.

In addition, I understand that that brevity and clarity is your goal here, but the connotation of this language cannot be overlooked.

Breach of contract, personal injury, property damage: these I understand warrant the bold “You are being sued” heading. However, participating fully in a relationship, providing a warm and happy home, doing the bulk of work of raising children, and finally, offering to work side-by-side with the aggrieved party in the salvage of the marital union, do not, I believe, warrant such a austere announcement.

Consider instead that the recipient of these forms may have simply been a victim of a spouse’s midlife crisis, a bystander at the collision of a man’s realization of his own mortality and his dissatisfaction with a life that he himself chose but in his later years found too restrictive and prescribed.

Consider that perhaps he aimed the laser beam of that unhappiness at the most obvious of ties in his life, thereby avoiding the painful inner work needed to achieve long-lasting peace. Consider all that and then consider a softer approach to this announcement.

(Perhaps a simple transposition of the “s” and the “u" in “sued”? Just a suggestion.)

I have come a long way since that day in November. The mountain of paper grows; the divorce notebook groans with the weight of them. So many documents to arrive at a final, and probably relatively simple, document that will signal the end.

I no longer run away from the task at hand. I file what needs to be filed, I ask my guide for help when I need it, and I gather strength and hope from my friends who have been through this before.

Someday, these papers will be stuck in a file cabinet, locked away in the dark, frozen in time and place, weighed down, saddled with the burdens of this confusing period of life.

But I won't be.

I now know that without a doubt. I won't be.

Poetry Tuesday: "One Day" by Patricia Jabbeh Wesley

2012-01-31T04:00:00.000-08:00

One Day

Love Song for the Newly Divorced

One day, you will awake from your covering
and that heart of yours will be totally mended,
and there will be no more burning within.
The owl, calling in the setting of the sun
and the deer path, all erased.
And there will be no more need for love
or lovers or fears of losing lovers
and there will be no more burning timbers
with which to light a new fire,
and there will be no more husbands or people
related to husbands, and there will be no more
tears or reason to shed your tears.
You will be as mended as the bridge
the working crew has just reopened.
The thick air will be vanquished with the tide
and the river that was corrupted by lies
will be cleansed and totally free.
And the rooster will call in the setting sun
and the sun will beckon homeward,
hiding behind your one tree that was not felled.

--Patricia Jabbeh Wesley

Monday Morning Flowers

2012-01-30T04:00:00.000-08:00

Good Monday Morning!

I had a great weekend!

How about you?

Here is your Flower Love for the week.

For happiness one needs security, but joy can spring like a flower even from the cliffs of despair.

--Anne Morrow Lindbergh

FInding the Balance

2012-01-26T04:00:00.000-08:00

Soon after HOB left, I figured out I needed some professional help to sort through the wreckage of my emotional life. I had never been in therapy before, but I was lucky enough to end up on the couch of a very fine woman who has helped me immeasurably.

Early in the process of recovery, I wailed to her, “I am so tired of this. I just want to be the old Betty again!”

She leaned toward me, locked her deep brown eyes on mine, and softly said the exact words I did not want to hear: “You will never be the old Betty again.”

I gasped and looked at her in dismay. She continued, “You will be a different person because of what has happened to you.” In a flash I decided I needed a new therapist, one who would tell me what I wanted to hear, damn it. She said, “You will never be the old you, but you will be a more empathetic person, a person who understands life and people’s pain in a whole new way.”

At the time, it didn’t seem to me that that was a good deal. I was in too much of my own pain to see how this chasm in my life could actually transform into a bridge to other people.

However, she was right. Before when people spoke to me of loss, of betrayal, of the pain of unwanted change, I smiled a sympathetic smile, and said the well-worn phrases that I had learned to say as a bystander of life’s misfortunes and calamities. Now that am a bit of a veteran, I know that just my eye contact, my facial expression, my hand over the hand of another, communicates more than any words could.

Indeed, when I think back to breaking the news to others, there was, in the eyes and the actions of those who had traveled down this road before me, recognition, a concern, an empathy that told me they really got it. They really understood. Also, in that exchange there was the unspoken strength and assurance that came through that I would indeed make a good, a better life for myself. So many of these kind souls added the words I did not believe at the time, “It will get better.”

I will never be glad my marriage fell apart. A part of me may always feel the ache of the exacting and absolute amputation performed on that late August night. I know what it’s like to be holding a rope, to depend on it, and have someone on the other end let go of his end and walk away.

You fall.

You fall hard.

It hurts.

It’s confusing as hell.

You struggle and struggle to get back on your feet, and you stand, bruised and shaken, not at all sure of your path. Then, slowly, just like everyone said it would, it gets better. You regain your balance. You find your dignity and strength restored--restored and even increased.

And that’s when it happens: you come across someone else is hurting and without even considering whether you are strong enough or ready enough, you reach out, pull that person up, dust him or her off and say those words that he or she won’t believe until later: “It will get better.”

And then, you aren't the old you and you aren't the new you.

You are just the person you were meant to be.

Poetry Tuesday: "Neutral Tones" by Thomas Hardy

2012-01-24T04:00:00.000-08:00

Neutral Tones

We stood by a pond that winter day,
And the sun was white, as though chidden of God,
And a few leaves lay on the starving sod;
– They had fallen from an ash, and were gray.

Your eyes on me were as eyes that rove
Over tedious riddles of years ago;
And some words played between us to and fro
On which lost the more by our love.

The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing
Alive enough to have strength to die;
And a grin of bitterness swept thereby
Like an ominous bird a-wing….

Since then, keen lessons that love deceives,
And wrings with wrong, have shaped to me
Your face, and the God curst sun, and a tree,
And a pond edged with grayish leaves.

--Thomas Hardy

Monday Morning Flowers

2012-01-23T04:00:00.000-08:00

Good Monday Morning, My Darlings!

Hope you all had good weekends and are ready to start the week.

I went out in my neighborhood yesterday and picked these flowers just for you.

Here's wishing for a happy week ahead!

If I keep a green bough in my heart, the singing bird will come.

--Chinese Proverb

Three Men and a Betty

2012-01-21T07:17:00.000-08:00

As you can imagine, going through a divorce and finding out various things about your beloved mate of thirty years that are less than appealing, less than honest, can alter a girl's view on the entire species of men.

I started down that road, beginning to view all men through a skewed lens when the universe set down three men in my path to stop me from making that mistake.

They have all appeared, or reappeared in my life recently to teach me certain things, to make me understand that there are good, solid, decent men out there. They are my three wise men, bearing their own gifts and appearing just when I needed them to.

The first is rough around the edges, but with a heart of gold. He drives a big pickup truck and a Harley. He looks out for me, but never takes away my independence. He grounds me when I need it, and makes me smile with his bluntness and his honesty. He's been through similar circumstances and so, knowing the holidays would be hard, called on a regular basis to check up on how I was doing. He takes me for rides in his pickup to get veggie burgers, always makes sure I have a Diet Pepsi when I need it, and encourages me in the art of swearing when it feels good. He and I are unlikely friends, but we are indeed, friends.

The second is a man I have known for years and years. He now lives on the east coast. When he heard of my divorce he wrote me, sent me a box of healing presents, and a paper hug (his arms, traced out on paper, taped together). He is survivor of divorce and understands the pain of the process. He is also a survivor of cancer, of numerous surgeries, of many of life's trials. Through it all, however, he still maintains a sense of generosity and empathy. He may not know it, but he inspires me with his incredible courage. I recently spent time with him and sitting across from him, eating pizza and laughing, I was reminded how uncomplicated a good friendship can be.

A third man has recently entered/re-entered my life as evidence that smart, kind, patient men exist. Slogged down with all of the emotional garbage of divorce, and the emerging details that threaten my own sense of self-worth, I was beginning to believe some of the negative voices in my head. It was then this friend appeared to remind me that I am indeed a woman of substance, style, value and worth. He lives an hour away, and so I do not see him often, but when we do get together, we take long walks together and talk about everything under the sun. He encourages me on those days when I can't look at one more legal document. He writes me letters that make me smile. He is soft-spoken, and I am not, but we share the same sense of humor. He has brought back my smile, and optimism about men in general. He actually makes me think that maybe, someday, I might be able to trust someone with my battered heart again.

The world is filled with good people, and I am so lucky to be surrounded by them. In my family, and at my work, I have so many examples of good, sincere men of principle. However, I can't help but think that some force brought these three into my life to help me along this path at this time.

Each came, and in his own way helped me to learn a lesson I needed: not to take life so seriously, to face challenges with courage, and to trust in the future and all the incredible possibilities that await there.

My New Year's Trip

2012-01-19T04:00:00.000-08:00

We have some catching up to do, apparently.

For New Year's I flew out to see Sonny Boy and his girlfriend in Virginia. It was the first time I had seen them since they moved. I loved seeing them and their new home.

Since Sonny Boy and Girlfriend do not allow their pictures on this blog, I had to stand in.

Too much Betty in one post?

Oh yes.

I got to visit VT, home of the Hokies!

My friend Steve lives in West Virginia, but came down to see me.

We met in college about 34 years ago and have kept in touch over the years.

He is a sweetie indeed.

Betty and field at VT. It is a beautiful campus!

OH! OH! OH! We got to go to Mt. Airy, North Carolina, home of Andy Griffith and the town Mayberry of the "Andy Griffith Show" was based on.

I am sort of a freak about the show, owning every episode and knowing far too much about each and every one. I had SO much fun going to the museum and the town!

Sonny Boy and his girlfriend were very patient as I took in all the sights and participated in racy activities like the one above.

I couldn't think of a better place to start this exciting new year.

Seeing my beloveds in their new home, exploring this part of the US, and visiting Mt. Airy?

It all made Betty greet the new year with a smile.

Hope your New Year was just as good.

Party of Two

2012-01-18T04:00:00.000-08:00

As most of you know, I was determined to get through Christmas this year (the first one after the sudden departure of my husband, and the first one my son had to miss) mostly by ignoring the holiday. I didn't unpack the tree, nor the ornaments. I made plans to go to my sister's house in another state for the actual day. I avoided heavily decorated streets. I shunned Christmas music whenever possible. I thought I had done a pretty good job of protecting myself from any onslaught of excess emotion brought on by my first Christmas alone.

So, when a retirement party for one of my colleagues came around, I thought it would pretty much be just a department meeting on steroids. No problem. I dressed up appropriately and went to the house of another colleague, ready to have a pleasant time. It didn't even cross my mind that I would have any trouble.

I was wrong. Christmas decorations were all over. Pictures of a happy, intact family lined the walls. My colleagues brought their significant others. The rooms of the house were alive with laughter and conversation. Rich foods flowed out of the kitchen. Everyone was kind and considerate, giving me hugs and smiles from across the room. This kindness and compassion nearly put me under, because, as pure as it may have been, I saw it tinged in pity. I looked at the Christmas tree, covered with hundreds of busy ornaments, mirroring my own cluttered emotions. I was overwhelmed, but I held it together fairly well, even when my beloved retiring colleague sat next to his long-time wife and thanked her for all her support.

Then, I gathered my things, smiled and laughed as I walked out the door, thanking my hosts and exclaiming about what a good time I had. I walked to my car.

Then, I lost it completely. Yes. A complete meltdown. I had not cried like that for months. Emotions rushed over me, swept me away and I as suddenly just as sad and confused as the day HOB left me.

So much for progress.

I had planned on going to a friend's birthday party the next day. I went home, and quickly sent my apologies. No more parties for me.

The next day, a friend I had not seen in years came over for lunch out and a walk afterwards. What I had expected to be a short walk and talk, turned into a long walk, a long talk. We meandered the streets of the town, and the talk flowed freely. Walking in the warm air of a California December, I felt a peacefulness I had not felt for a long time. It was getting near dark and we must have already walked at least five miles, but I suddenly knew what I wanted to do. For some reason, I felt safe to do it.

I, the girl who was avoiding Christmas at all costs, guided my friend toward the street in our town that is known as Candy Cane Lane. The houses there go all out, decorate to the hilt, Christmas music blares from some of the front yards. The street is always full of people in a holiday mood, out for fun. We walked side by side down the street and I wasn't overwhelmed, or melancholy, or aching. I was just simply happy. The complications of my life fell away for a few minutes and I strolled down the street with my friend and enjoyed the lights and the sounds.

I thought about big parties and how we flock to them, prepared to have a good time and most of the time we do. But on this night, I understood that there are some times in life when the best party of all is a party of two. It was simple. It was uncomplicated. There was no pretense or need be anything but authentic.

So, yesterday was my birthday. I had a great day until I had to go to two divorce-related meetings. I came out of them upset, confused, and generally distraught. I had planned on getting together with a group of people, but I called one of my best friends and asked her if we could go out to dinner, just the two of us. She urged me to call more people. She insisted she could gather more friends, but I remembered that day in December and how the best parties are sometimes made up of just two good friends.

We dined, we laughed, we talked, I cried (a little) and we welcomed in this new year of my life.

It was just what I wanted.

It as just what I needed.

It was a great birthday party, indeed.

It's Betty's Birthday And You're My Present! (Apply Bow Now. Wear for at Least 24 Hours.)

2012-01-17T04:00:00.000-08:00

Hello, My People!

Guess who is jumping back into the blogpool?

I have missed you all so very much.

Things here are still a bit rocky at times, but getting better every day. I am eager to start blogging again and catch up with all of you. I can't promise I'll post on a regular basis, and I can't promise my posts will be coherent, but has that ever stopped me before?

So, today is my birthday and my present to myself is the freedom begin to blog again. I want to thank you all for your kind thoughts and voices of support and concern, especially, those wonderful, pesky people who e-mailed me and urged me to come back to Blogland. I will never forget your support and friendship through this time. Truly, I am humbled and blessed beyond belief.

So, put on that shiny bow and wear it proudly. If anybody asks about it just tell them that you are a present to Betty and a gift to the universe.

Because you are.

Sometimes you hear a voice through the door calling you.... This turning toward what you deeply love saves you.

--Rumi

This Scattered Life

2011-12-21T21:12:00.000-08:00

My Blogging Buddies,

When I started this blog three years ago I came up with the moniker of Bossy Betty thinking I could use some snappy persona and write from that perspective, hiding behind a mask of irreverence. The irony is that through blogging and the connections I made with my readers, I found that I couldn't be anything by authentic in my writing.

Maybe that is a strength; maybe it is a weakness.

Recent events in my life have pretty much stripped all remaining pretenses from my life. I find that I have no choice but to be authentic. I have no energy for anything but authenticity.

Unfortunately, that honesty comes with an emotional price. At this point in my life I am trying to deal with research papers, wrapping paper, and divorce papers. I am trying to keep my head above water. Just when I think I have a handle on this whole divorce thing, new revelations come to the surface and threaten to drown me. Just when I think I can't be hurt in any new ways, I find out differently.

So, I am taking a blogging break. I need some time to gather myself, to make sure my sons have some much-needed emotional stability, and to just try and make it through the holidays.

I'll be back, my pretties.

I love you too much to not haunt you with my every observation.

Have a wonderful holiday season and I'll see you soon.

--BB

Monday Morning Flowers

2011-12-19T04:00:00.000-08:00

Happy Monday Morning, Everyone.

Sorry I have not been around lately.

It's been a little crazy here.

I hope to get back into my writing groove very soon.

Flowers and treats ahead for you!

Someone's idea of a joke at the Department Christmas Party:

Christmas is a time when everybody wants his past forgotten and his present remembered. What I don't like about office Christmas parties is looking for a job the next day.

--Phyllis Diller

Poetry Tuesday: "A Walk" by Rainer Maria Rilke

2011-12-13T04:00:00.000-08:00

A Walk

My eyes already touch the sunny hill.
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has inner light, even from a distance-

and charges us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it,
we already are; a gesture waves us on
answering our own wave...
but what we feel is the wind in our faces.

--Rainer Maria Rilke
Translated by Robert Bly

Monday Morning Flowers

2011-12-12T04:00:00.000-08:00

Happy Monday to you all!

Here's hoping you have a great week ahead!

My legs are still recovering from the Secret Stair Hike, but it was so much fun!

We passed by some great architecture.

We also passed one of these. Can you guess what it is?

You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something - your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.

--Steve Jobs