For a number of years I have been gratified to study human beings in their many different incarnations and modes of existence. I daresay they remain an enigma to me and have proven—as the case invariably must turn out in the particular tale at hand—impossible to write about with any real accuracy on account of their many self-contradictions and ambiguities. I find the longer I am acquainted with someone the more they surprise me and the less I feel I know them. Indeed, my oldest friends, of whom I have not a few, are the most baffling to me. The seemingly most obvious of their signature characteristics have revealed themselves upon exhaustive inspection as deep wells of dark complexity. I would never think of attempting to write about them.

I have said that I rove and write, yet I do so with no particular aim in mind. I never have established a logical itinerary and have no interest in publishing my scribbled observations. I feel that to do so would separate me overly much from the everyday people and lives which serve as my private canvas and the wellspring of what wisdom I may have earned. It is enough that they instruct me and I make record of it.

Given my penchant for cataloging it should come as little surprise that I travel under the guise of an assistant librarian of the secondary schools. I find this sort of cover occupation suits me very well: the work is unchallenging and the environment allows me to observe closely students and coworkers while dwelling among books. Though I never stay long in any one place, I am pleased to report the impression I give to my coworkers—at least to my knowledge—is always a favorable, or at least harmless, one. I take an interest in the people around me, listening to their trials and aspirations, as well as the books placed in my charge, binding them if necessary and organizing them into their designated places. Many a school librarian will frown at a student who takes down from the shelves a great stack of books, but I am always delighted following such a student’s departure to learn what he or she has been reading, speculating about the nature of their assignment or personal interests, before returning the books to their places like the parent who gently tucks their children back into bed.

________

The account I set down here is strange and terrible—a tale one scarcely dares disturb the ashes of its memory. Indeed, so peculiar are the circumstances of the story that I can hardly believe myself to have actually been party to them. I cannot vouch for all of its particulars—at times I was reduced to speculation—but its undeniable sadness serves to fire its veracity, as is often the case with the events of life in this, our sad world.

I was entering my second year as assistant librarian at Happy Brook Middle School, a public institution of perhaps five hundred students set among the gentle rolling hills of rural western central Virginia. I had just returned from London where I had helped my mother sell her house in St. John’s Wood so that she could take up a little age-friendly flat within convenient walking distance of Whitehall and was looking forward to assuming my usual routine of observing people and organizing books against the backdrop of a new school term.

My best friends at Happy Brook were Gorm Morstlan and Charlotte Sheppard, a married couple of uncommon talent and charm. Upon my arrival I had taken a fancy to them at once and they, in turn, had tucked me under their wing, introducing me to coworkers and their friends, and helping me to navigate the various machinations of the school. It was not uncommon for me to dine with them twice a month and also to spend time with each of them separately. As head librarian of Happy Brook, Charlotte was my immediate supervisor whom I interacted with on a daily basis. Gorm, on the other hand, I saw away from school, attending the shows of the various bands in which he performed. He played a passable jazz flute and I took pleasure in having a drink or two with him after one of his performances and studying also the diverse persons in the crowds who attended his barroom gigs.

Gorm had an easy manner and humorous way about him. He took life—his teaching included, I am afraid—none too seriously, which made him a light and entertaining companion. He was small, slangy of speech, pleasantly sarcastic, and not a little narcissistic, though this quality did not offend me. He seemed happy in his marriage and his variable day-job/night-job routine. Charlotte was an extremely nice smallish, sensitive woman with dark eyes which lurked beneath fine eyebrows. She was not pretty in the conventional sense, but certainly attractive and possessed of a very agreeable disposition which drew people to her.

When I was new at Happy Brook, Gorm and Charlotte had appeared genuinely happy to meet and come to know me. Indeed, very quickly I seemed to assume some positive function in their marriage the entire nature of which I remained uncertain. Charlotte informed me she was grateful for my arrival in the library given that she seldom had anyone with whom to talk books. For Gorm it was my occasional presence at his gigs and willingness to have drinks with him which I think both stoked his ego and afforded him something of the illusion of being single again. Indeed, he was not above flirting with a girl or two at his performances and seemed to take my presence as an available male as license to do so.

My collective friendship with Gorm and Charlotte—especially those occasions on which I taught them Bridge and Canasta or lounged about the lake near their home—brought a sense of warm belonging to me. Rarely had I bonded with coworkers as I moved from place to place. Part of the reason, of course, is that I knew I would be passing on by and by. Another circumstance, however, was my conviction that if I came to know the people with whom I interacted too well, I would sacrifice that capacity to observe, which enabled my particular life’s passion and purpose. Yet I gave myself over to both Gorm and Charlotte as confidant and bosom spirit. This, I believe in retrospect, is precisely what blinded me to the true nature of their lives and the tragic events which transpired. One eventually discovers or recalls that attached to the high brow is the bone head, and it soon became evident there was much which had eluded me, despite the not insignificant pride I took in my powers of observation.

________

I was shocked—and I am not one easily shocked—when, during the second week of new term classes and within two days of each other, Gorm and Charlotte approached me separately to request my attendance at a deposition arranged by a lawyer of Charlotte’s which was aimed to serve as a precursor to facilitating their divorce. Gorm apparently had been involved in sexual exploits with a number of women for years and currently was involved in a relationship of sorts with Happy Brook’s guidance counselor—a woman I knew only by appearance named Jasmine Sykes.

“I’m afraid most of it’s true,” he informed me flat out. “I’d like to try to make you understand later, but for now all I’m asking for is your support as a friend. I’d like you to be there”

Gorm appeared troubled as he uttered these words, but otherwise he was his normal self: prepossessed, laid back, and not a little self-righteous. I never would have guessed the true circumstances of his life at that time.

On the other hand, though I did not know the reason for it, I had been suspicious of the condition of Charlotte’s physical health since the school year began. Upon the resumption of classes following the summer break, I had noted her marked loss of weight, the dark circles beneath her eyes, and the frequency with which she retired to her office and shut the door. I wondered at these signs, but thought better of asking her about them given the possibility she might take offense and interpret my inquiries as insults to her appearance or professional demeanor. Yet these concerns proved groundless when she approached me about the deposition a day or two after Gorm had.

“I’d like for you to be there,” she said, echoing the sentiments of her estranged husband, “as a friend who knows us both.”

I elected to say nothing of Gorm’s request out of my divided loyalty, but I readily agreed to her request.

“You realize this is heartbreaking for me, Charlotte,” I said. “I think so much of you and Gorm and you both have been so kind to me.”

She smiled—a bitter smile, I thought—before she spoke. “Thank you,” she said through tight lips, “but it’s likely you won’t think so well of him when this thing is over.”

With that she had turned and entered her office, slamming the door behind her.

________

I slept poorly the night before the deposition. The three weeks which lay between my double-invitation and the actual event had seemed an eternity as I awkwardly maintained my friendships with Gorm and Charlotte. Gone, however, was the warmth of that three-person fellowship which had brought us all together the previous year. Eyes open to the adverse nature of their lives, I began to notice things about both of them which I had either neglected before or which had evolved more recently out of the general dysfunction of their marriage. Whereas I know for a fact she had loved her job in the past, Charlotte had come to be short with coworkers and students alike, ushering them out of her path as quickly as she might. She continued to lose weight and employed her office as if it were a bunker to shut out the bombardment of life’s events. On two occasions, needing to ask her an urgent question, I had knocked and opened the door to discover her lying in the dark, back against the floor, breathing heavily.

“Charlotte,” I asked softly the second time this happened, gently closing the door behind me so that no one else might see, “are you alright?”

“Yes,” she said. “Please go.”

And I had, as softly as I had entered, but not without a great heaviness in my heart.

Meanwhile, I took note of Gorm’s trajectory in the opposite direction. He seemed to have more energy, more vitality. He had put on weight and his eyes and voice conveyed a kind of unnatural fever.

“Come out with me,” he urged. “I’ll tell you all about it. You’re the great observer.” He laughed.

“I’d like to,” I said, as politely as I might, “and I’ve promised to support you at the deposition, but remember I am still Charlotte’s friend too.”

At this his face had darkened slightly.

“She’s causing me a lot of trouble,” he said. “Needless trouble.”

It was then we were joined by Jasmine Sykes. The two of us inspected each other coolly. She was an attractive woman despite her flat chest, stringy blonde hair, and lusterless eyes.

Gorm had the presence of mind to introduce us, but when he had done so she grasped his hand and whispered something in his ear. They both smiled.

Clearly the whisper and handholding was less for Gorm and more a voiceless sign to me, albeit something I was not meant to know but rather only guess at. I stood there awkwardly as they bade me farewell and sauntered away together. Happy Brook it seemed had become a place of unspeakable things

________

I arrived early on the day of the deposition, resigned I suppose to make myself available to Gorm or Charlotte should either wish to have a word with me beforehand. However, I found the little room in the courthouse already occupied. Gorm was sitting next to Jasmine Sykes. As he was positioned closest to the door, he was able to shake my hand as I entered and murmur his thanks. Jasmine did not look at me and instead stared straight ahead as though she were inhabiting some other place.

On the other side of the room sat Charlotte between her lawyer and a man I would later learn had served as Gorm’s and Charlotte’s marriage counselor: a Dr. Short. Charlotte smiled at me and mouthed her thanks as I took up a chair near the middle of the room, almost directly between the two parties. I let out a weary sigh. Each thought I was there for them.

Once seated I was able to examine the room’s other two occupants: attractive, younger women whom I had never before seen. Involuntarily, I glanced from them to Gorm. It was not difficult to guess the form the deposition would take.

It is unnecessary to relate in detail how the proceeding transpired once they were underway. One by one, in succession, Gorm and his lovers were examined and picked apart, the most humiliating and squalid of their acts laid bare for all in attendance to absorb. I periodically glanced at Charlotte throughout. Her expression fluctuated but was always difficult to read. Sometimes it seemed one of disgust, while at other points there appeared almost a glimmer of sorrow, even pity for the woman on hand. When Jasmine was called forth Charlotte’s face was a blank; there might have been no one there speaking. Charlotte’s lawyer had prepared a visual presentation based largely on evidence gathered by a private investigator. It documented Gorm’s and Jasmine’s illicit relationship in excruciating detail with entries from Gorm’s computer journal, explicit phone messages, and vulgar photos, including a disgusting sequence involving Jasmine’s twin sister, Mona.

It is a dangerous thing to seek to artificially order the lives of others and I have often wondered at the legal system’s confidence in forcing upon its victims measures that must necessarily alter their psyches and life paths. As the deposition wore on, I began to wonder what real good it was accomplishing. Gorm’s former lovers were subjected to embarrassment and humiliation in a manner that aided no one while, if anything, the proceedings likely would only draw Gorm and Jasmine closer together, increasing the strength of their bond. And it was clear the event was affording Charlotte little or no genuine satisfaction or peace. Indeed, at that moment a distasteful thought entered my mind: that Charlotte was hurt when she discovered Gorm’s unfaithfulness not because she loved him so much, but more because she loved herself so much. Shaking my head in an attempt to clear it, I nevertheless failed to banish the notion.

*

One of the inconveniences of real life—of a true tale drawn from life—is that it seldom affords you a complete and satisfactory story. I saw little of Gorm and Charlotte after the deposition. Whereas before I had served each as a symbol of something positive which existed between them exclusive of me, after the proceedings it seems I performed a similar function albeit in a negative light. It was as if I had come to be a symbol of their marriage—of its best parts—and thus held no future function for either of them once they were resigned to the fact that it should be destroyed forever.

As for myself, I wished only to make it through the remainder of the term before quitting the place. I had turned in my resignation not long after the deposition, even though I had no future plans of my own and lacked a clear idea of what I wished to do. I did however begin to rethink the way I had been living my life and began to doubt if I would continue to persist in my old habits. It has been said the wise traveler travels only in his imagination and that quotation was much on my mind in the weeks following my resignation. At last I resolved that I would give up my roaming for a time and live in the little cottage in St. John’s Wood mother had refrained from selling along with her house.

I knew, however, this would not serve as a permanent arrangement—had known it long before, just minutes in fact after the conclusion of the deposition. The room having emptied, I was left standing with Charlotte. She was very pale and her eyes possessed a glazed quality.

“My lawyer said that divorce could be like death,” she mumured, staring off into space. “The loss of a past loved one in all capacities.”

“Don’t say that, Charlotte,” I said.

I hesitated before adding, “Remember you have the power, to a certain degree, to shape it as you like.”

For a moment she was very still. Then she looked up at me—cold, hard eyes. “I wish he was dead,” she said through clenched teeth. “I really do.”

Though I knew her feelings were justified to a certain extent, an involuntary chill ran through me and for a moment I was afraid of her, even should an ocean stand between us.

But then the fear faded even as a frail warmth returned to her eyes and she collapsed against me, thin frame in convulsions. And it was in that instant I became aware of the presence of a wondrous grand thing I had encountered only once before. Invisible yet felt, always: the warm smile of life—of existence—on all its creatures, great and small, including these two sad people and the lonely person that was me. What choice had either of us but go on though our hearts prove as heavy as the world? With all of the books in existence, there remains always another tale to tell.

Use multiple layers depending upon your location and the weather conditions in your area. Three layers are optimal for being comfortable while training in the cold. More than three layers can sometimes get bulky and inhibit your movement based upon the physical activity. The key is getting motivated to go outdoors, and then staying motivated while exercising outdoors. If it’s too difficult being weighted-down with heavy layers, you’ll stop exercising and go back indoors. Not what you want!

Start with a base layer (against the skin) that is moisture-wicking (dry-wick/air-wick material) which allows perspiration to escape from the body while keeping you comfortable. As the moisture pulls away from the skin and into the innermost layer, you are kept warm and dry. Avoid fabrics that stay wet and absorb perspiration such as cotton. Some of the best inner layer fabrics are polyester and micro fiber-based fabrics, silk and some wool.

The two layers on top of the base layer should be ones you can easily take off when you get warm such as long-sleeve shirts, vests or jackets. Then if you get cool again, you can add these layers back on. The second layer is a mid-weight insulating layer to keep you warm. Some of the best insulating layer fabrics are wool, fleece, and some polyester fiber fabrics.

The third layer is like a “shell” to keep you protected from the wind, rain and other cold climate elements. Some of the best “shell” layer fabrics are waterproof and breathable materials. Based upon the weather conditions, a plastic raincoat also works.

Additional items that keep you warm:
• Science has proven the body loses most heat from the head, so wear a hat
• Light gloves wick moisture away from the skin and keep the hands and fingers warm
• Socks keep the feet warm and wick moisture away from the skin

All in all, choose layers based upon personal preference and what your skin can handle. For example, some people are allergic to wool and may break out in hives or begin to itch very badly. It’s also recommended to wash your moisture-wicking garments in cool water inside out, and to hang-dry them as the intense heat from a dryer can minimize the wicking power of the garment over time.

Now that you know how to layer-up, you are ready to take-on the cold winter climate and enjoy your outdoor exercise!

For a full bio of Heather Binns, click here

© 2010 Full of Life Fitness, LLC.  All Rights Reserved.

With that in mind, please note that certain names have been changed to protect the guilty.

In contrast to previous months, October of 2007 seemed fairly innocuous. Karen and I had been legally separated since July, and I was trying (in vain) to interpret her ongoing litany of mixed messages and vague implications. Despite the resolute tone that marked every phone call, her disposition often changed the moment we were in close proximity. The resentment and general acrimony would dissipate, and we would find ourselves communicating again. Over the phone, Karen repeatedly assured me that our marriage was a dead issue. She wouldn’t deny having delivered the coup-de-grace, but felt no responsibility for its dissolution. She refused my pleas for counseling or other forms of reconciliation because she “couldn’t” be married to me; as if she didn’t have a choice in the matter because some cosmic presence was pushing her away.

In person, I would see a dramatically different side of Karen’s complex persona. She never failed to greet me with a tight embrace, and the level of affection would increase if we happened to be alone. Naturally, this was rather confusing and only compounded the emotional turmoil that characterized those early months of separation. I believed that through these one-on-one encounters, she was giving me a reason to hold on. Maybe she was confused about her own feelings and just needed time to sort them out. Surely a few months alone would give her enough perspective to realize that divorce was a rather extreme proposition. I refused to believe that she really wanted it; no more than I did, at least.

As the months passed, I began to see a side of Karen that was starkly unfamiliar. While always a bit dramatic, her personality took on a belligerent quality that seemed puerile and vindictive. One of her more insidious methods involved disregarding my attempts to contact her. I had witnessed Karen’s tendency to brush off friends and family members who violated her abstract code of fairness or principle, but never imagined myself on the receiving end. Even carrying out the simplest of tasks (e.g. picking up personal effects from the house) became a debacle that would go on for several days. Typically, the sequence of events would begin with my initial phone call, which would be ignored.

Every time.

Attempts to contact her by e-mail would be similarly deflected. I wanted to believe that she was just overwhelmed by work-related stress or the difficulties of managing a household by herself. However, there was a convenient irony in Karen’s tendency to leave multiple voice messages (usually 45 minutes apart) whenever she needed me to sign a check or remove my name from a joint account. I eventually came to realize that she saw very little of the world outside her own suffering and dissatisfaction, and truly felt entitled to some form of universal restitution.

It was 9:00 pm on a Friday when I received a rather unexpected (not to mention uncharacteristic) call from Karen. As promised, she had put our house on the market and was in the process of painting and having some electrical work done. She didn’t want my help with any part of the process, and was quick to let me know that several friends and co-workers were lending a hand. Naturally, I had a few questions about how she planned to carry out such an ambitious plan without my assistance.

“So someone is taking care of the electrical work?”

“Yes.”

“I thought we were hiring an electrician for that.”

“Well…we don’t have to.”

“One of your co-workers is an electrician?”

“Um, no.”

“So who is doing the work?”

A brief pause ensued.

“His, uh…his name is Eric. He’s an electrician.”

I was hearing Karen’s tone gradually decline from indignant confidence to an awkward stammer. Out of necessity, I braced myself before proceeding with the next question.

“Is there something going on there?”

Anticipating another pregnant pause, I was taken back by an irritating giggle.

“Please! He’s mama’s age!”

I marveled at how the southern charm that once enamored me had become little more than a blank affectation. She went on to explain that Eric had been introduced to her by a co-worker. Given that she was struggling financially (as tends to happen when one eliminates a spouse’s income from the monthly ledger), he was willing to donate his time and talent. She considered him a friend and supporter. In other words, he provided blind validation for those times when she needed to excoriate me.

“But there is something I should tell you.”

Once again, I felt my stomach wind into a spring.

“I asked Eric to go through the house yesterday and remove all the knives.”

A cyclonic blur of emotions came over me. She continued talking, but I couldn’t focus beyond the images flashing in front of me. I heard running water and saw pink rivulets trailing from the bathtub to the white tile floor. I saw the steely glint of a paring knife on the kitchen counter and static puddles of crimson against a linoleum canvas. I heard her muffled gasps as I resignedly blotted the angry red gashes across her thighs with Q-tips and antiseptic solution.

“God, I…I’m really sorry to hear that. Are you okay?”

“I am now.”

“It sure doesn’t sound like it. You should probably see someone.”

“I saw Dr. Gibson the other day. He gave me an antidepressant and a sedative. I’ll be fine.”

True to form, Karen had spent fifteen minutes with our family doctor and believed she was cured.

“You’ll need more than that. Take it from someone who knows.”

I was referring to my own penchant for self-destruction, which had a tendency to surface in turbulent times. Despite the difference in method (she turned to a knife, I turned to a bottle), I had always seen parallels in our respective coping mechanisms. But Karen would never acknowledge any such likeness, preferring to operate under the pretense that she was healthy and I was not.

With a petulant huff of exasperation, she proceeded.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a little busy at the moment. I’m having to sell a house by myself, you know.”

I was all too familiar with this line of reasoning. She had abruptly kicked me out of our home and refused my help at every turn. Just the same, it was my fault that she couldn’t keep the house and stood on the verge of bankruptcy. She “had” to do everything by herself because she “couldn’t” accept my assistance. She had not made a choice in the matter, because there was no other option. Therefore, Karen bore no responsibility for the stress that had seriously diminished her quality of life.

Slighted by her insinuation, I tried (churlishly, I might add) to reason with her.

“And whose choice was that?”

A deafening pause ensued.

“You arrogant fucking prick.”

Each word met my ears about a second apart, every syllable bursting with menace. I was admittedly shaken, but felt guilty for steering the conversation into such parlous territory. Taking a deep breath, I attempted to explain myself.

“I’ve tried to help you, but every time I reach out you push me away. I’ve given you everything you’ve asked for, and–”

“I’m done talking to you.”

With a sharp click of the handset, the discussion had ended.

On Karen’s terms.

The full story can be located on Chris’s website

So, despite the slightly faltering start to my relationship with my future wife, I thought my marriage was going to last forever. After all, we were from similar backgrounds and we had willingly agreed to marry after conducting a relationship for a few years and living together happily before the wedding day. We both viewed matrimony as a sacred institution that you did not enter into lightly, nor did you leave it.

In fact, for many years it seemed we were going to live out my vision of marriage and family life in much the way I had grown up to believe and expect. We lived pretty harmoniously, enjoyed doing things together, shared similar values and had a congenial circle of friends. We happily invested time and energy in our three children because their welfare was our primary concern. Overall the atmosphere in the house was convivial and relaxed.

This familial bliss continued for about fifteen years before cracks began to appear. For numerous reasons my relationship with my wife gradually deteriorated until we reached a stage where we were hardly touching each other and resentments began to build up. It was a dark period for me generally.

My solution to my mid-life crisis was to seek therapy for myself. By contrast, my wife’s response to our predicament was to get into bed with a work colleague. When I found out, about two months later, it hit me like a thunderbolt. I felt like I had been slit down my middle with a knife; opened like a tin can. The pain just seared through me. What I felt was an agonizing mix of betrayal, abandonment, hopelessness and impotence. It was as if my world had collapsed. My life partner, my wife of nearly twenty years, mother of my three children was saying, “It’s over. You are not good enough. I want a new man.” In the early stages I was completely swamped by a sense of my own inadequacy, as a man, and as a husband. Later these feeling turned into anger and rage.

Fortunately I had already started therapy. It did not take long for the therapist to point out the connection between what I was feeling then, aged forty-six, and what I had experienced but didn’t allow myself to feel at the age of ten, when my mother died – abandonment. My wife’s betrayal had opened up an old wound, touching a very deep vein in my makeup.

Betrayal in the form of adultery is always painful. In my case, its exceptional power lay in the fact that it reawakened my deepest emotions: my wife was rejecting me in much the same way I felt my mother had “rejected” me by dying. In effect the situation that resulted was similar, only now it touched the core of my being.

My therapy helped me enormously to deal with what I was experiencing. Firstly, to cope with the crisis and, secondly, to begin to understand the dynamic I had established in relation to my mother. It also helped me go through the mourning I had not gone through at the time of my mother’s death, playing the tough boy instead. For the next five years I was in weekly therapy, at first in a one-to-one format and then as part of a group. Throughout this period, which paralleled the disintegration of my marriage and eventual divorce, I delved into the nature of my relationship with my mother and the effect her dying had on me. Naturally the therapy covered other aspects of my life as well.

Over time I came to realize that what initially felt like a double blow – my wife’s betrayal coupled with my memory of my mother’s abandonment – eventually became a transformative experience for me. The insight I gained into my emotional patterns allowed me to turn the saga into an opportunity. Somehow I managed to lay most of my demons to rest and virtually begin life afresh. I emerged a new man, in charge of my own life, able to be my own good father and mother, and lover if necessary. I got the whiff of freedom in my nostrils and became aware of myself as a sexually attractive man. Inadvertently, my breakup launched me into my present, and best, phase of my life.

Posture is the alignment and function of all parts of the kinetic chain at any given moment.  The kinetic chain is the combination and interrelation of the nervous, muscular and skeletal systems in your body.  So in essence, any deviation from proper postural alignment can cause a change in the body’s center of gravity, which affects the ability of the nervous, muscular and skeletal systems to work together.  The correct functioning of each system, both statically (without movement) and dynamically (with movement), is required for optimum performance and movement.

The main purpose of proper posture is to maintain the alignment of the musculoskeletal system that allows our center of gravity to be maintained over our base of support.  The ability to effectively maintain balance is termed as postural equilibrium.  In essence, posture is the position from which all movement begins and ends.  When you have proper postural alignment, you are able to optimize the ability of the nervous system to communicate effectively with the muscular system.  All of this insures that the muscles are optimally aligned and functioning properly with the body’s joints, which in-turn allows for proper dynamic muscle actions in multiple planes of motion.

Any imbalances you may have can be corrected by strengthening and stretching various muscles throughout your body.  Knowing which muscles need to be strengthened or made more flexible is determined by a physical imbalance/postural assessment.  Work with your Certified Personal Trainer to correct your imbalances through a combination of proper flexibility exercises and strength training to help keep your physical imbalances at bay.  Also, be sure that your trainer knows how to properly perform an imbalance/postural assessment and design a workout program to correct them.

So what’s keeping you from fixing your physical imbalances?

Reference: The National Academy of Sports Medicine (NASM).

© 2009 Heather Edwards, CPT at www.HeatherCPT.com.  All Rights Reserved.

For a full bio of Heather Edwards, click here

When Adam asked me to write some things for his blog, I had no idea what I might write on his major subject, and I didn’t know that I could write anything that might be of interest to others.

You, the readers of his blog, have made this old dude feel at home and for that I thank you. If you have found anything relevant, you make my day.
As you might imagine, (considering my age) I have a certain bond with your parents! Now, come on, it isn’t a dirty word. I have a question for you: Do you really know your parents? No matter what your answer is, I have a challenge for you.

I am certainly not the only one with a lifetime of interesting insights, So—

I want you to go to both your parents and ask them to write down some of the insights from their lives! Really! I don’t care if they say they can’t write or they were lousy in school. Plead with them, blackmail them, beg if you have to, but get them to write. I am willing to bet that you will be pleasantly surprised. You will see your parents in a new light and perhaps even begin to look on them as friends.

Adam’s Dad

Compelled by this article? POST A COMMENT

Like this Article? Subscribe by selecting a delivery method below:

• Free RSS Subscription
• Free Email Updates Subscription

FAQ: What is RSS?

Other Recent Posts by Don Weston

• Divorce/Like the Delete Button
• I JUST GOT A DIVORCE - NOW WHAT?
• Thank you for calling me wise
• DIVORCE/Not Me, My Child’s
• Who's to blame for your divorce?
• Divorce Advice and Support from Don Weston
• What can you learn from a 63 year marriage? You decide!
• Adam's Dad | Advice from a 64 year marriage

Well, she said.. I saw them dancing tonight.. Closely and she wasn’t wearing her ring..

Our time apart grew and grew.. We argued.. I was a bum..working 12-15 hours a day in my career and a side job to make it happen…what a loser.
She told me we should separate..
Separation means.. Stay married legally and sleep with other people right?
I didn’t agree…
Two months past..
Thanksgiving came.. I couldn’t be with them because of work.. I called and called.. The whole family all weekend had a reason she nor my son could come to the phone..
Three days before Christmas they were finally coming home.. The house looked great.. Flowers and clean bathrooms.. I was trying hard and expected a great reunion..
Instead, the night before I came home to a message on the machine from a woman whose voice I had never heard before asking me to call her and if I knew where my wife was..
Strange and unnerving I dialed back.. She proceeded to ask me about a guy.. If I knew him.. “Yes, that’s her brothers boss”
Well, she said.. I saw them dancing tonight.. Closely and she wasn’t wearing her ring..
Who are you? I asked
I can’t tell you.. She says..
His wife?
Silence..
I still don’t know to this day..
I called the house.. Everyone started to lie.. She wouldn’t get on the phone til I had her nailed..
They came home the next day..
My life changed forever that day..
I asked her more about it..
They are “friends”
She needed support.. “Its been hard”
She spent about 2 hours on the phone directly in the middle of all this so I started to snoop..
Firstly the computer where I found emails.. Love letters to be exact..
Then credit cards.. Charges at Victoria Secret far away from where they were suppose to be Thanksgiving weekend..
Oh yes, the purse.. Where I found to plane tickets with her name and his on it Thanksgiving weekend..
Guess the family was wrong.. They weren’t at the mall when I called… Simple mistake.. Mall/outta town with lover.. Hmmm….same difference..
So I confronted her and she denied traveling. That weekend and actually cursed me for questioning her.. Typical..
I flopped the tickets down and asked ” Well then what are these?”
Silence and walk away..
We are friends.. F you!!!!!
Wow!!!
I wanted blood.. Him her anyone.. 2 hours at the driving range and an hour of batting cages and driving around with road rage kept me out of jail.. Whew!
I moved out shortly after..

I will continue the rest and where we are today..
My son is now 13 and doing amazing..  Two stories to how it has transpired..
I will leave with this for now though..
We were official in September and she was married to her “friend” the following Mothers day.. Yes, Mothers day.. Really??
I congratulated her on finding a best friend to marry.. That’s what it is about..
Kudos, they have been married a year longer than we were and have two young children..
Oh did I forget to mention that when she went home at first she was pregnant and had a miscarriage.. My fault..
The mystery lady on the phone knew about it by the way and suggested it wasn’t mine..
Makes sense.. We had only slept together once in about 10 months..

Like this Article? Subscribe by selecting a delivery method below:

• Free RSS Subscription
• Free Email Updates Subscription

FAQ: What is RSS?

Some time ago, I had the experience of making a difference, one on one, in the life of another human being. It’s difficult now, to describe how it affected me, but it must have, because I have never forgotten it. It is said that one frequently comes away from an experience such as this with a feeling somewhat akin to euphoria. I don’t know about euphoria, but when I play the experience over in my mind, I do get chills.

I believe it necessary to relate some background information in order to give you a more complete picture. In our business travels to Arizona, my wife and I met many very nice people and there was one couple, who owned a store, with whom we became friendly. We spent one or two Thanksgivings with them, staying in their home and enjoying their company.

The lady, I’ll call her Mae, had been married two or three times before (I had never been able to figure out the exact number). The gentleman was either husband number four or five. They had not been married long and it was simple to figure out (from their conversation which came across like an article in Playboy), that they thoroughly enjoyed their marriage!

Mae had a 12 year old daughter from one of her previous marriages, and the small family traveled on vacations in their motor home. I could not, for the life of me, imagine what went on, while that child was in the next room in a motor home.

They turned up at our home one July evening, plugged their electrical in and we proceeded to our patio for snacks and something to drink. The young girl went into our den, which could be seen from the patio and sat down on a hassock. After awhile, I looked in the den and she was still sitting there staring off into space looking for all the world, like a lost puppy. I could not stand seeing the child like that, so I went into the den and asked if she would like something to drink. No thanks. I then asked her if she would like to watch TV. No thanks.

In those days I played the guitar a little (our dog was the only one that would stay in the room while I played), and my guitar was in its stand in the den. I asked if she would like me to teach her how to play a little song on the guitar. To my surprise, she said yes! I got my guitar, placed it on her lap and showed her how to hold the guitar and how to hold her fingers on the frets. To make a long story short, that little 12 year old was playing a little two or three chord song called, A peanut sat on a railroad track, in about one half hour, as if she had been playing guitar for six months. Had I been sitting down, I believe I would have fallen off the chair. I went back to the adults and made her mother promise that when they returned home, she would get her daughter a music teacher.

Discuss this post on our community forum

We are very proud to announce our new community forum. Help yourself, help others, start a thread of your own! Check out the forum and join the community! Click!

Fast forward two years. We had the opportunity to see them again and the child was then 14. I asked her how her music was coming along and she told me that she was in the school band and was learning one or two additional instruments. (I don’t remember which.) After talking together for some time, I asked if she would like some ice cream (there was a place across the street) and as we crossed the street she took my hand. I have always felt that more was being said by that child taking my hand than would have been said by speaking.

We lost track of them after that, although we did hear that Mae’s mother had passed away and it seemed to me that Mae could have been waiting for just such a turn of events. Her mom owned some property called downtown Phoenix and Mae was an only child. Almost immediately (if you can believe local gossip), she closed her store, divorced #5, moved to Colorado and met #6. The last we heard, her daughter was enrolled in university in New Mexico and her major was…Music. As I write this I’m getting a bit emotional but that’s O.K. I get this way when I think back to when I was able to make a difference in someone’s life.

The moral of the story? Making a difference in someone’s life will usually make a difference in yours.

Adam’s Dad

Click here for full bio on Adam’s Dad

Have you read any of my previous posts?  You will find that many are inspired by music. Music plays such a role in my life, always has. I was driving home tonight and these lyrics rolled off my tongue as i listened to a song:

A warning sign,
I missed the good part then I realized,
I started looking and the bubble burst.
I started looking for excuses.

I remember the first time I heard that song. It was quite profound for me really. I did a music swap with one of my best friends. I gave him my music library, i got his…this was in the very beginning of iPods and iTunes. We (the wife and I) left on a vacation to Hawaii, I really don’t remember much about the planning or why we were going at this point…probably partial block I am sure. I do recall it was a trip to try and reconnect. In the end, we really did not reconnect at all….I think we started our divorce.

I was sitting at the edge of the most beautiful pool. I was pretty much alone there. It was an outdoor pool, but protected by the walls of spa area, kind of like a oval courtyard, with the pool in the middle. There were lights all the way around the courtyard walls, not bright white, rather amber in color as I recall. The men’s spa was to my left and the woman’s spa entrance to my right as I sat in a lazy lotus position at the edge of the pool. I was noticing the reflection of the amber lights in the perimeter of the pool as I messed around with my iPod mini. That thing was like a brick, how funny. Anyway, I just had a massage, it was early evening, the spa was probably closing and I sat there, pretty somber.

Before I left on the trip, I filled the iPod up with most of the music Randy gave me…there were all sorts of great tunz, some I had never bothered to listen to in the past. As I sat there, I recall just putting the iPod on random and chancing it. The first song that queued up was Warning Sign by Cold Play. I have never been so struck by a song, Chris was singing to ME. I never bothered to listen to Cold Play prior, just was never into them. But that song. I immediately played it again, then again. The rest of the trip I listened to every Cold Play song. I can still picture that moment in time, edge of pool, amber lights, lotus position, still pool, with glassy reflections….heart sinking…music playing.

We were at an impasse, total empathy for each other. As I look back, the trip was the beginning of the end that had started long before, yet I did not know it at the time. We were just so different. If I liked blue, she liked green. If I liked it soft, she liked it hard. If I wanted chicken, she wanted fish. If I wanted fish, she wanted chicken. We agreed on nothing. Our fights were based upon our differences. We drifted apart. I did my thing, she did hers. We passed in the hallways. I watched TV in the living room, she did in the bedroom. Even our schedules were in conflict, If I wanted to take a nap, laundry had to be done at that moment. In all fairness, I’m sure I bugged the hell out of her too and the situation was much the same from the opposite side. What a shame.

That was the warning sign. We were moving in different directions. The bubble did burst. What could have been done at this point to save a marriage? Can a marriage be saved when you ignore the warning signs and just keep drifting? I have no answer….do you? You can comment on our forum here.

New Online Forum

We are very proud to announce our new community forum. We are currently filling it with may discussion topics. Now you can connect with others,  ask our contributing writers questions, discuss related topics, all with like minded individuals committed to, healing. Check out the forum here.

Like this Article? Subscribe by selecting a delivery method below:

• Free RSS Subscription
• Free Email Updates Subscription

FAQ: What is RSS?

Yes, I am divorced and have faced many challenges over the past years. I’ve often been asked if I would re-marry. Although it is very difficult to ponder marriage so soon after divorce, I still have obligations to my past marriage among other fears and concerns, I always knew in my heart that I will have a wife, sometime in the future that is, YES, I will have a wife, YES. (I just rented Yes Man)

I never thought I would remarry so soon!

What am I talking about, remarry? Well, that is a bit misleading. One of my very close friends bestowed upon me one of the greatest honors this past Saturday, the honor of presiding over his wedding. A few years ago I introduced he and his girlfriend. They came to me a month ago and asked if I would marry them. Wow! Me? The divorced guy with the divorce website!

Last night was enlightening. Over the past few years, my focus has been to offer help to others getting over and through their divorce. In doing that, I lost the focus on what it means to be married. Rather then look though the eyes of a divorcee, considering that any new relationship is destined to fail, I looked though the eyes of a man that is open to all possibilities. This is a new beginning that I will work on more! Lord only knows how I was put in the position to marry Ernie and Molly, but it opened my eyes to the endless opportunities that life has to offer. I forgot about my failed marriage and had a very warm feeling in my heart for a successful marriage.

The MC asked Ernie and Molly to stand as the newest married couple, he then asked all other married couples to stand, one by one he eliminated them leaving the longest married couple standing, ironically, that couple was my parents. Adam’s Dad and Mom….

Mom and Dad, 63 years and dancing

So if you ever wondered if you will ever recover from your divorce, consider that the universe works in the strangest ways, teaching us as we walk the path of our lives. Always be open to the possibilities!

What a night! Below you will find the cheat notes from my service…enjoy and consider the possibilities!

Ernie and Molly’s Wedding – Adam’s Cheat Sheet!

Molly’s Dad walks her down the aisle:

The marriage of Ernie and Molly is more then just the union of two people in love. It’s also the joining of two families, of two sets of friends and of two patterns of life. Who stands with this woman in support of the blessing of this marriage?
Dad says: Her Mother and I do.

I Start the Ceremony:

Welcome, I’d like to start our ceremony with several love quotes. I hope you are as inspired with them as i have been.

Funny thing is I took these off a post I did here on Adam’s Wedding Dress

• You can give without loving, but, you cannot love without giving
• To love is to receive a glimpse of heaven
• Love is not finding someone to live with, it’s finding someone you can’t live without
• Love is the only way to grasp another human being in the innermost core of his personality
• Love is not blind — it sees more, not less. But because it sees more, it is willing to see less
• Love can happen anywhere, at any time, and almost always when we least expect it
• I love you, not for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you
• I love her and that’s the beginning of everything.
• There is only one happiness in life, to love and be loved.
• The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.
• Love, the magician, knows this little trick whereby two people walk in different directions yet always remain side by side
• Love is not a matter of what happens in life. It’s a matter of what’s happening in your heart
• Where there is great love, there are always miracles
• Lust is when you love what you see. Love is when you lust for what’s inside
  We cannot choose who we love, only whose love we accept
• You come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by seeing an imperfect person perfectly.
• Love doesn’t make the world go round, love is what makes the ride worthwhile.
• A simple I love you means more than money
• The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.
• Love sees roses without thorns.
• To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides.
• Love is patient; love is kind; it does not envy; it does not boast; it is not proud. It is not rude; it is not self-seeking; it is not easily angered; it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
• And Finally: To love someone is nothing, to be loved by someone is something, but to be loved by the one you love is everything

Now for my monologue about how Ernie and Molly met, start with: For the past 2 weeks I have pondered the honor….and wing the rest for 4 minutes! Don’t blow it Adam

Now I will have Ernie and Molly Share their wedding vows

Molly’s Vows…
Ernie’s Vows….

Now the I-do’s
Do you Ernie, Welcome Molly as your wife, offering her your love and encouragement, your trust and respect, as together you create your future?
I do
Do you, Molly, Welcome Ernie as your husband, offering him your love and encouragement, your trust and respect, as together you create your future?
I do

May I have the Rings please

Ernie Please Take This Ring
Ernie, As you place the ring on Molly’s finger, Please repeat after me:
I give you this Ring as a reminder
that I will love, honor, and cherish you,
In all times, In all places
And in all ways, forever

Molly Please Take This Ring
Molly, As you place the ring on Ernie’s finger, Please repeat after me:
I give you this Ring as a reminder
that I will love, honor, and cherish you,
In all times, In all places
And in all ways, forever

And now, to all the friends and family who have come to celebrate this marriage, I pronounce you husband and wife.

You may now kiss the bride!

Can anybody fly this thing?
Before my head explodes.
Or my head starts to ring.

I run. I’m running, listening to music that has moved my life. I cry. I really do, I’m running and crying.

But everything I can’t remember
As fucked up as it may seem
the consequences that I’ve rendered
I’ve stretched myself beyond my means

Why must i feel this way?
just make this go away
just one more peaceful day

I’m flying too fast, too too fast I fly, trying to keep up, I’m not even looking out the window, I’m not stopping to breath and smell the flowers…what good is it to fly so fast if you can’t smell the flowers, something is very wrong. My feet chug my body up an amazing trail, the weeds are growing, but they are low, there are a few foot prints of the warrior that preceded me on this run. There are flowers, I’m just trying to get to the top with as little pain as possible, I have a long way to go, no time to stop and smell the beautiful wild flowers…i know they are there, I see them in my peripheral vision. They are there, I can’t stop, make it to the top

Check my beat dig they rhythm
Me belly full but me hungry so I fill it
Once I start gaining taxes start taking
Cause the governments perfected funk faking
Breaking me down striking me down
What goes around comes around but
I keep rising seeing through the lies and
The surprise comes when I see myself
The music I felt
Im on

This aint living
This aint living
Oh no

Why do I put so much pressure on myself to please others, why does it seem that I am always caring about everyone else, doing the right thing, what about me?

Don’t let your mind get weary and confused
Your will be still, don’t try
Don’t let your heart get heavy child
Inside you there’s a strength that lies

Don’t let your soul get lonely child
It’s only time, it will go by
Don’t look for love in faces, places
It’s in you, that’s where you’ll find kindness

Be here now, here now

I’m still now, made it to the top of the hill, still, sitting looking over the world before me, crying more, crying harder. Is this where I am suppose to be right now? Did I notice how beautiful everything was on the way up? It is not the fact that I am here now, it was the journey…shit, did I miss the journey up here? No, wait, noticed some stuff….or did I?

Come on, my star is fading
And I swerve out of control
If i, if I’d only waited
I’d not be stuck here in this hole
Come here my star is fading
And I swerve out of control
And I swear I waited and waited
I’ve got to get out of this hole

But time is on your side
Its on your side now
Not pushing you down and all around
It’s no cause for concern

Time is on my side, I CAN choose what to do next. I’m calm, the emotion of the music moves me more. Slow the F*** down Adam.

Sometimes when I feel so boxed in
I wanna go and take a ride
Grabbed the keys and my cigarettes
And disappeared into the night

Two choices right now, be around a bunch of friends, or just be by myself, sometimes I like to be by myself….me too!

Sweet memories Flashing very quickly by
Reminding me Giving me a reason why
I know that My goal is more than a thought
I’ll be there When I teach what I’ve been taught
AND I’VE BEEN TAUGHT.

I won’t be satisfied with the changes that have happened to me over the past 3 years until I get to do what I am here for, it cannot possibly be to work my ass off like i have been, to financially take care of everybody, no it can’t. I want to learn and I want to teach. I’m doing little of either now, I am on a treadmill, stuck, paying my debt to my marriage, my employees, my friends, and me.. for my perception of what is important.

I’ve been so long in waiting
Putting my life on hold for this
Chance to live out my dreams
You think you know what I should
Do with the choices I now have
Make them benefit you
What if I don’t wanna hear the things you say
Where were you when I was needy yesterday
You want in with me, now that it’s good
But it’s too little, too late

Yes, I’m on my own, everyone needs a piece, when it is good, will I get my piece? How to get off this treadmill? How?

Aquí estoy pensando que no tengo mucho que ofrecer
Pero yo sé que lograré salirme de esto porque ya es tiempo

Pero dime dime dime dime cuanto
Pero dime dime dime dime cuando

Llegará llegaré, llegará llegaré
Sí, llegará llegaré, llegará llegaré

When, tell me when I will have the strength to make my next change? Will I? Yes I will, Yes I will.

Recovery…. Now I write, and I feel more at peace, you can too!

By mid-to-late July, and around her birthday, she became increasingly more communicative, calling and asking me for special favors and wanting to “talk about things”. She wanted to come see the kids, as it was her birthday. I was very leery of this and didn’t want to be around but she manipulated the situation to make it so she was at our house much of the day and went so far as to kiss me before she left that evening. We had a court date the next day in our divorce proceedings, and she actually started making some headway in her case. The order I had keeping her boyfriend away from my kids (although I had reported on SEVERAL occasions she was breaking this order, NOTHING was ever done) as he had some “issues” that were uncovered in his own divorce I was aware of. She was now claiming that he was abusive and she was afraid for her life. He was, in fact outside in her car right then because she couldn’t leave the house without him there. Long, long story shortened; I allowed her to come back into the house that weekend and I left as this was both confusing for the kids and she still had this bogus order of protection against me. I wanted her to be safe, not to mention, of course, my children. When she realized I was NOT going to be taking her back, that weekend, she ended up going back with him and recanting everything she said, saying that my attorney and I had acted in concert with her own attorney to coerce a false statement from her. Her lawyer obviously had enough after this episode and requested (just short of pleading) to be excused from the case. After many delays and her dragging her feet, the judge finally told her that we were going ahead with the custody hearing whether she had an attorney or not. To avoid a trial she offered 50/50 custody with shared residency with some veiled threats to make me accept this. My attorney’s advice was to take it. I did, reluctantly and only with certain provisions, including continuing an order keeping her from leaving my kids alone with her boyfriend and not allowing him to consume alcohol in the presence of my kids.

Obviously living with someone makes it rather difficult to live by this agreement (and other less stringent rules she violated with regularity) so my lawyer said we would go back for full custody when she started violating and I would be awarded custody. Time went by… I ended up paying child support while keeping the house and stability for my kids to have the only home they ever knew and the judge ordered they stay in my school district at least. She had to drive them in every day on her weeks. They missed A LOT of school when they were with her. I paid for all of their doctor’s bills, insurance, extensive dentist bills. I was determined to make sure they didn’t miss out on a single opportunity or activity they wouldn’t have otherwise in a ‘normal’ family setting. I didn’t want them to suffer for the bad decisions of a mother they had no hand in selecting. She didn’t work, and desperately held onto the facade of a “stay at home” mom while her boyfriend supported her and deserted his own kids and family to the tune of thousands of dollars in back support and lost time. She continued to violate the court orders, even went so far as to admit it to me… I asked my lawyer when we could go back to fight. He kept telling me “it isn’t enough”. Our eldest son would wind up in the emergency room with stomach problems due to stress of her doing the most screwed up things (like having the kids make her boyfriend father’s day cards and have me bring them back to her house early on that day to celebrate it with her boyfriend). I finally stopped hanging onto the fight. I gave up. I stopped bringing the kids to their therapist because she couldn’t break through the wall of silence they had developed. (As it turned out, and it wasn’t surprising, she was “coaching” them not to say anything about their time at her house) (I dislike the word “coaching” by the way; it makes a villainous activity sound almost Disney-like). I just dealt with this insane ping-pong game of one week on, one week off and it became our “normal” for a while: until right before this past Christmas.

On December 20th, my youngest son made a startling statement that will prove to be one of the most profound, life changing moments of my life (the extent of which I am sure I still have yet to comprehend). The rest of my story is still pending litigation, and in fact, is still so tentative I am not at liberty to go into details at this time. Suffice it to say, we have delved into a new level of hell that I don’t think Dante himself dared to contemplate. I am still, even with a judge, a children’s law guardian, a specialized abuse counselor and a myriad of supporters behind me, experiencing the discouraging lack of support and outright disdain a father receives when he is simply trying to keep his kids safe from an abusive situation; Especially one that involves their own mother and her bad choices.

I was in the car on the way back down Mammoth Mountain. My husband was on the other end of the phone line in Illinois.
“How can you even think it is ok to be talking to HER Adam?”
He only responded by trying to shut me up, being angry and saying that he did not have to talk about it.

SHE was someone I had caught him chatting (online) with a week earlier, only a few hours after we had decided to go to counseling.  They were coming up with a plan to meet up, referring to me as the warden. I forgave him then, I mean…I forgave him every time, so many times. We started to go to counseling. Counseling, it seemed, was for me to better cope with a cheating spouse, not to figure out why he continued to cheat.

Now I let him know that I would not be coming back to Illinois, that it had all been enough. Everything was over…or just beginning to be over.

Since that day last March I have been struggling with my decision. Did I make the right choice? Was divorce really the best option?

He has a new woman now, he has since May and I just wonder why I am left holding all the bags. He seems to have processed everything and be right as rain…while I…well I am in a different boat entirely. I have no trust…a certain distaste for men, I fear that I’m a potential heartbreaker. I cared for someone and turned him loose. I think I am looking for perfection, but if I found it would I keep it right now? It is a hard thing to know that you need to be alone, you have to push everyone away from you so that you can process things, you know? 10 months later I’m still so lost.

This seeming conflict of lady and tomboy makes it hard for me to find someone that knows how to relate to me and often, I even have trouble knowing myself. Therein lies the problem and the basic reasons my relationships failed.

First, a tip. Communicate. Communicate before the relationship gets very serious, communicate after, always communicate. Don’t let things get so out of control that the only solution is divorce. It can be avoided if partners simply communicate at all points during the relationship.

It is difficult being an old-fashioned gal with a tomboy’s persona. On one hand, I want what so many people want: a relationship that lasts ’til death do us part’; someone who cherishes me, protects me, and loves me for who am I and not what I could be; and to be the caregiver while the partner is the breadwinner. On the other hand, I shy away from cooking and cleaning, preferring to hire a profession to do those things for me; I dislike dresses and skirts; I like to get dirty whether it’s a muddy game of football or a long hiking and camping trip.

My first long-term relationship was fraught with physical and mental abuse because not only did he have anger management issues, but he was so insanely jealous that his possessiveness was smothering. After him, I went the completely opposite route and found a man who seemed to be a true romantic, a real ladies’ man, someone who let me be me. Little did I know, until after I married him, that he was so easy-going because he was far too busy in relationships with other women at the same time.

When that marriage ended, I waited until I thought I was ready and then found a man that I thought would be perfect for me. He was possessive enough that he made me feel like I precious to him, but laid back enough that I didn’t feel smothered.  Unfortunately, he had never had a real relationship before: eight years my junior, still in college, still living at home while in school. I thought this lack of ‘baggage’ would be a boon, but it turned out to be a downfall.

I was scared of communication, truth-told. When I tried to communicate with the abuser, I was abused. When I tried to communicate with the cheater, I was lied to. So I avoided communication and, with him having so little life experience, he truly didn’t know HOW to communicate.

This alone was the source of the death of our marriage. Let’s go back to the beginning, though, so you can see how a fairytale can become a nightmare when both people refuse to talk…

In 2000, I met an amazing guy online. He was sweet, he listened when I talked, he called me just to see how my day was going. For two years we cultivated a friendship online and I finally felt like I was doing right by myself. This was finally a relationship that was not based in the physical, but in a friendship, something I thought could be a rock that could weather any storm in a relationship.

After two years we met and our friendship became a romance. Sadly, we both had expectations of the romance that we had not discussed during the course of our friendship. He wanted someone that was submissive, and while I enjoyed him taking charge in the bedroom, out of it, I had (and have) a very strong personality that didn’t mesh well with his “good little 50′s wife” ideal.

Among my other expectations (a lover, a partner, a friend), I had one that was of someone strongly driven to succeed in life. I like material things, who doesn’t? But that wasn’t why I wanted a driven person. I wasn’t expecting to sit back and reap the rewards of his hard work like some gold-digger or trophy wife.

I wanted a driven person so that there would be security in our future. I wanted a driven person so that I could be his support system. Specifically, he said his dream was to write a book (one I share, actually) and I was his cheerleader in that and my goal was to be a manager/personal assistant-type to help him manage his schedule.

This was the best of THREE worlds for me: One, I would be able to prove my success and worth in my own right in that role, two, aside from my partner, I’d be my own boss, and three, I’d get to do something I LOVE which is being a guiding light.  Not much gives me more joy than to help others in some manner.

So we both ended up being disappointed. He got into some online hobbies that completely distracted him from finishing college and writing. I turned out to be a more dominant personality than he’d wanted.

When our son was born, I urged him to move us from Ohio to Georgia (where his family is located) in an effort for a fresh start. This was the true beginning-of-the-end for us. This is where I really saw his true colors… and he saw mine.

Living with his parents while our house was trying to be sold, he became lazy, throwing himself into his online pursuits and waiting six months before trying to find a job to support his family. He also reverted back to ‘mama’s boy’. Now there is nothing wrong with a son loving his mother and I hope I have a great bond with my son throughout his life, but this was to the extreme. He completely disregarded me and our needs as a couple in order to keep his mother happy.

During this, my strong personality came out in an effort to try and control the situation that I felt was destroying our marriage. This led to a strained relationship with his family, that in turn strained our marriage even further in some deadly cycle.

It became obvious in a hurry that the move to Georgia was a huge mistake.

Eventually we found some common ground and decided to move back to Ohio. Our home had not sold, our debt was piling up from maintaining two residences with our limited budget, and we were on the verge of divorce.

But our communication had completely collapsed. We tried counseling, ‘dating’ each other again, but we never truly communicated. Our ‘dates’ were what he wanted to do, which were sexual games, never what I wanted to do, which was dinner, or a trip to the zoo or aquarium or movies. Sex is nice and all, but a date consisting of ONLY sex and no true connecting to me seems to be really lacking in what couples need to bond.

And our bond was growing weaker by the day.

Finally, in January 2008, an old friend of his encouraged him to come back to an online gaming forum to play with her. As with his other online pursuits, he threw himself into this with abandon, completely disregarding his son. He would have completely disregarded me too, but he managed to convince me to come play with them. Just like our ‘dates’ and how they were always focused on only sex, instead of an in-depth story arc, he just wanted to play cyber sex.  And like our dates, this ended in a hurry for me… a woman can’t survive on sex alone. Sorry men. It’s true.

I tried to communicate with him about this, but he refused to listen, telling me things like “I like to play this with you because you are the best writer I’ve ever met.” Sure, flattering, but why not write stuff other than sex then?

After a while he turned to other women for that online cyber-fix and I pulled further and further away. A path I’d been on since we’d moved to Georgia years earlier.

At one point I met two women online that I became friends with. This didn’t set well with him, because he was used to be the only person in my life, other than our son, who could claim my time. Soon, his cyber-sex friends tried to convince him that I MUST be having an affair, because why wouldn’t I want to spend time with him instead of them?

Perhaps these women were happy with the fact that they had no friends, aside from a sex-addicted married man, and couldn’t see that our marriage had been dying for years. I can’t blame them, though, as they can only know what they are told and if we had not communicated well enough for him to see the marriage dying too, how could he possibly communicate exactly how long back our problems had went?

These friendships I had were not affairs, not in the least, but they did fill a hole I had in my life. Eventually, the friendships ended (too long a story to go into here, but the basic gist is I don’t tolerate being lied to and both of them lied to me.. a lot). By this time, he had flung himself so deeply into his cyber-affairs and had himself so firmly convinced that I was doing something wrong, that once he had me “back”, friendless and needing some kind of caring in my life, he denied me.

And this is what caused the real affair to happen. A self-fulfilling prophecy, that one.  It was an emotional affair, and to be honest, it is still going strong, but I am a very loyal person and I never even would have gravitated in such a way to this man had it not been the distance from my husband that had been building for years and culminated during the online mess of this year (2008).

In October, 2008, my husband filed for divorce. I had been ready for it since August of 2006 before we moved back to Ohio and the only reasons I didn’t file were one, our son, and two, I’m an eternal optimist and hoped we could rebuild our relationship, or, really in our case, build it from scratch since we started it on such faulty perceptions.

I’m going to end here, even though it seems a bit awkward a place to stop, but I am going to wrap up with the following:

First, a tip. Communicate. Communicate before the relationship gets very serious, communicate after, always communicate. Don’t let things get so out of control that the only solution is divorce. It can be avoided if partners simply communicate at all points during the relationship.

Second, an offer. If anyone has any questions on anything I’ve written, as it’s long and yet still a very brief overview, feel free to ask me in the comments. If my story can inspire, or help, or warn, then I am willing to impart any of my experience to help that.

Finally, some inspiration. “There are no failures – just experiences and your reactions to them.” That is a quote from Tom Krauss, a motivational speaker from the early part of the 20th century. Never feel that because a relationship failed, you are a failure. Just learn from it and use that new knowledge to make the next one better. Eventually you’ll find that someone that is perfect for you.

I did.

Obviously, advice is something of an opinion and it comes from ones own experiences and view of life and the world around us. So how the hell is your advice going to benefit me? I find that my women friends are really into listening to each others issues and “supporting” each other. I’m not so sure guys do the same thing. Where a woman will vent her personal issues, relationship issues, work issues, her friends then acknowledge the issues, men on the other hand will say, “yeah man, my girl is being a chore right now” his supporting friend will say, “no way, that sucks bro, hey, you want to get a beer?”

OK, wait, this did not start out as a male/female comparison, the direction is about advice. I have been viewing many blogs recently and have found a pattern: I will see a blog topic created, followed by comments on what the topic poster should do, followed by the poster defending themselves from the advice of the comment, followed by the person commenting defending their position…and so on and so on and so on.

Have you ever noticed that when a friend in need has a problem and talks to you about that problem, your first inclination is to solve the problem with your own life experiences. You tend to say, “well, what I would do is this”. What I am getting at is how can your friend benefit from what your life experience tells them to do. They are not living your life, their circumstances are so different. Have you noticed that you can give advice until you are blue in the face and your friends end up doing nothing that you tell them to do?

Read this link again if you have some time. Notice that most of the people that have a problem are constantly regurgitating the problem…then advice is given…and the advice is complete sidestepped and we get right back to the problem…. My heart is broken and will never heal, they left me and I will never be able to move on, the pain is so deep…i still only can think about this person, I am so depressed. Then someone comments, gives advice that seems quit logical and sound…but it is just side stepped and we hear the same story, My heart is broken and will never heal, they left me and I will never be able to move on, the pain is so deep…. it is a never ending cycle. This cycle by the way keeps you trapped in never never land of negativity. These people would better be suited in trying to concentrate more positive aspects…how about this for example: My heart was broken, but i know it will heal, it always does in time, this person left me, true, but i can move on and start anew, I can make small steps, the pain IS deep, but every day I will make an effort to heal and be well and be thankful for what i have NOW. You see the difference in that? Much more positive and healing in itself! Can you sense the different emotion that the positive statements evoke? Instead of standing still or moving backwards, these positive statements feel like we are moving forward…don’t they?

My dad (Adam’s Dad) has been my mentor throughout my life. I am blessed to have him. I leaned very young that he would constantly tell me what to do and I listened. His favorite saying of all time was, Good, bad, write, wrong, or indifferent son, that is just they way it is! And for life until I was about 16, I went along with it whether I liked it or not. But as my life started molding itself, I started to do the opposite of what my parents did. My parents are democrats, ok…I am going to be a Republican (funny, to this day that is why I am registered as a Republican) All my dad’s advice was good, but it just did not fit me anymore. I was a maverick with a mission at age 18. I have things to prove and a world to take over. After college I started my own business and really did need advice…and Adam’s Dad was there to give it all. This time around I found that if I listened to his advice, no matter my agreement or not, but LISTENED, I could pick and chose the things that fit my style and situation. It was the discovery of a lifetime! I know in my heart that his advice was his advice, but I could take what i wanted for me!

In my marriage, i found myself to be the teacher. I had to teach how to use a computer, how to cook, how to do accounting, how to do everything. It did not go over well…I did not get it until recently…i was giving advice based on MY life experience and expecting my now ex wife to listen and do as I said. What an idiot! I did not know a basic principle of the Universe back then, and now I do!

I believe that one cannot direct another’s life experience. One is better suited directing their own journey through life.

Now when I give advice, I start out with this. “I have another point of view that may be of interest to you, listen and take all of it in, or none of it, or some of it and use THAT PART to your benefit. I am not you, but this view may be of help to hear!”

So are you still with me? I am all over this place on this post. The point I am making is that when giving advice, be objective and understand that your advise is coming from you and your experience. Better yet, listen more then talk!  And on the flip side, when taking advise, realize that this advice is coming from someone else that is not living your life, they don’t really know what your entire life experience is. Listen with an open mind and take the parts that can be of use to you in YOUR LIFE EXPERIENCE.

Divorce is ugly i faced mine alone i live in the east coast and my family resides in the midwest i didn’t want to go back home as a failure. with the help of my daughter i woke up as a new person.. everyone of us falls, is betrayed, feels sad, worn out, and somethime just bad. You can grieve and keep it moving or be bitter forever, i know at times it breaks you down into more than you could ever feel i felt that pain i felt depressed, i felt a lot of hurt, but at the beginning of my day and end i was a single mom now i had to get over it and pick myself up or try to..i got knocked down a lot i continue to fall i also continue to get back up. this almost thank you to the dum dum ex husband somehow became a bit of motivation, and success for me. Pain is inevitable, noone in the world is without it.

I couldn’t be—
White
Jewish
Quiet
Afraid
And strong enough for the same ole…
subservient
I unfortunately was lost (trying to fit in with you and your family)
Sad (that racism still exists, you should fight for me, not cheat on me)
Not myself ( I was lost trying to be what you wanted, and I needed to be who I was and am)
And not fighting for what I could be or even wanted to be..
It couldn’t be so easy as black or white, as we are and were me (black) you (white)
It was one or the other, but what we created together was the most perfect shade of gray…
We were only meant to be with each other enough for a beginning, without ever an end… the gray will be a forever part of who I am which is our beginning and end….
I’m sure your family is happy with the other, and  now we all as with life live with what if’s.. what if I was happy to be quiet, and not ask for more….

At this time in my life I am happy I get to struggle, and find out my more and what I am suppose to do in life. I figured it was to be just major successful finding my happy ending…. I always had a happy something.. My gray is my sunshine, my sun light, my reason for struggle, my gain in the world, my vision, my vitality, my smile, and why I choose to be here for my desires for fighting for a career, my whole everything to keep my tick tocking…I didn’t change  I grew up, I became responsible, I became loved unconditionally by the one true thing that’s higher than a job promotion, and all the fancy snancy things we all feel we need to make us complete or happy or live better. My gray became my sunshine in my days of being separated, than divorced, my gray became my teacher when she said to me “mommy that old house was nice, but we’re together and as long as we have each other we’ll be ok…I knew that to be true, but when moments in your life seem negative, you speak to god and he speaks back to you.. And that day God spoke through my gray which is my ray of light. Divorce is hard, and harder with children.

From the moment my gray spoke those words to me I felt light, a ray of hope and all my thoughts of just trying to be a better everything came back, dreams of traveling came back,doing my best and giving more in my profession came back, wanting to bake more came back, a new chapter was to be written.. I became a single mom alone in the east coast with no one to cry out to but myself, and my gray..I became a better person everyday from that moment on, I could never would never ever want to lose myself, or be anything different that the spunky woman I am today… While in life we feel regrets it’s natural to have flashbacks, and I will not lie and say it has been crazy happy blissful because it wasn’t it was brutal and most times chaotic, but I survived and I get to be the hardworking, real, sometimes dramatic, loving mom of a gray daughter that challenges me and everyday I count my blessings, and if I could say anything about my daughter that I feel deep down it is an honor, and the biggest pleasure in my life to have given birth to her.

She makes me stronger, wiser, and better everyday. Although pain is apart of everyones life different experiences different everything.. I wouldn’t change a thing.. God I must have did something right! Without the Gray there wouldn’t be a chapter in my life quite like this… Thank you for my gray, thank you for the  marriage that didn’t work well for me it made me better, and more appreciative of each and everything in my life, it also made me fight for me, and her. ..I hope in the next chapters, and paragraphs in our life my gray learns something from the black part in her life… I love my daughter more than words, people, poems could say they don’t do my heart justice I am simply in awe ad in love with my gray.. This letter started off as a thank you to my ex husband for being what I felt a jerk but became much more…

I hope my notes inspire someone, I am inspired daily. I just want to give my best, and I would like to give glory to god or helping in pulling me through it was rough crying alone, and not being the person that you need and or should be.. I was lost, and longing

He was the guy that I had a crush on in junior high – the older guy that was so cool and so out of my league.  It was the kind of crush that everyone knew about and thought was cute but that nobody (myself and him included) never thought would come to anything.  He was a bad boy and I was a good girl.  We were part of the same circle of friends, so we stayed in touch somewhat after he graduated from high school, and I was thrilled when he agreed to go to the Christmas semi-formal with me.  He broke my 15-year-old heart when he didn’t show up, so much so that it was no comfort when he called the next day to ask when he should pick me up – he had legitimately gotten the day wrong.  I was crushed, I stopped speaking to him, and he was sorry, but, I had stopped speaking to him so there wasn’t really anything he could do about it.  In time, I moved away to college, then moved across the country for a job, and he got married.  I remember seeing his wedding announced in the paper and feeling a little sadness, but he had been out of my life for so long that it didn’t register much.

He said that he can’t be in a relationship with anybody right now or for a long time – because he’s still in love with his ex-wife.

Fast forward 8 years or so and I heard from him online.  I had moved back to my hometown by this time.  He had recently gotten separated and we got together.  It was kind of a lark for me – great sex with the guy that I had such a crush on, but I knew that the boy and the situation was a mess.  It continued for a short while, but when I stopped hearing from him I wasn’t surprised and not very upset.  About six or eight months later, though, I heard from him again.  The divorce was in its final stages and we tentatively started a friendship.  We started spending more time together and it got physical again, but things moved slowly and I could see him getting distance from his ex-wife, so I felt good about it.  We were great together, and I was content for our relationship to inch along.

Surprisingly, though, I got a job that required me to move across the country again.  It was sad leaving him and at first I thought that my moving would mean that we would just drift apart.  Instead, though, we kept talking – and I missed him like hell.  He told me the same thing, and as things continued, I decided that we needed to have an honest discussion about what we each wanted.  Neither of us are great communicators, so I wrote to him to kind of give him fair warning that I wanted to talk about this the next time I’m visiting him – which is next week.  The response that I got shocked me.  He said that he can’t be in a relationship with anybody right now or for a long time – because he’s still in love with his ex-wife.  I’m still numb.  I prepared myself for him saying that he hasn’t healed, that he’s not ready to trust anybody, that he doesn’t trust himself to be good for somebody else, but I never thought that he still loves her.  Reading his message, two years now after they separated, I don’t know if he’ll ever be okay, and I know that I have to move on.  I’m heartbroken – as much for him as by him.

For the sake of clarity, let me say straight away here, that the issues in our marriage had little or nothing to do with N’s earlier preference for women.

There was straight on very very intense chemistry between us, and a lot of genuine affection beyond the “lust” we had for each other… we hit it off right away, and spent lots of time together.

We spent 5 months together, before she moved to Pennsylvania for a 6 month Yoga Instructors certification program.

It was a tough 6 months, and it almost wasn’t to be.  But we kept it together until she returned from PA, and we moved in together… A place out in the country.  Prior to moving in, I had gotten a gut feeling about the woman we were leasing the place from, and told Nat that I had “a really bad feeling about it”.  (WARNING:  Always… always… always… listen to your gut.  Did I say always?”)

Nat would hear none of it, and insisted we were moving in.  After heated discussion about it, I agreed to go ahead with it, but for the record stated I thought it was not in our best interest.

One night while we were running errands, she told me what she suspected…that she was pregnant.  We bought a test… yes, she was certainly pregnant.

The bottom line was, she wanted to keep the baby, and since I did love her, it seemed completely reasonable.  At the time, I had a bit of an “old fashioned” notion, that if there was a little one coming into the world, that it would be best to just get married and do the deal.  (Whatever the deal was?!)

So that’s what we did… despite my having a couple of very close friends advising against it.  (WARNING:  Can you know someone TOO long before marrying them?  NO!  I don’t think so…)

N’s was one horribly difficult pregnancy… she was very very sick most of the time.  She lost weight the entire 1st tri-mester.  I made sure to help in every way I could, but to top it off, the country place we moved into had a blossoming mildew problem.  Nothing seemed to knock it down, and it was not helping Nat’s health situation, and along with that, our landlord turned out to be the most bitter, distrustful paranoid person I had ever personally met.  Every single day, she made our lives a living hell.

We decided to move.  We broke our lease.  I told the property manager, we were leaving, and if ANYONE gave us any guff about it, I was going to sue everyone involved’ ass off, and enjoy every moment of it… and I had cause out the wazzoo.

The day we moved out, it was pouring down rain, and unbeknownst to us, the landlady from hell had snuck over, come into the garage, and put a lock on the outside of the garage access door to force us to move out in the pouring rain.  The door just would not open.  Obvious as it was to the cause of the stuck door, I managed to get it open, and it just blew the door frame apart.

The owner from hell ran over, upset that her plan didn’t work.  I told her to get out of the way, or I was calling the sheriff, and I WOULD have her arrested.  The look in my eyes suggested to her she had best just get out of the way, and let us be done with it.

As we drove away, Nat turned to me and said, “I will never disregard your gut instinct again.”

Unfortunately, I would…

We moved into a new place back in the city (Suburb of K.C., MO), got settled… mostly…  and then we headed to Pennsylvania again for the Christmas Holidays…

To make a long story short…  late at night, a few days before Christmas, Nat started to bleed.  We were freaked… we went to the hospital the next morning, and got horrible news.  The baby was dead.

It was 5 months along… so we had to induce in order to deliver the little fella, so Christmas eve Nat delivered our deceased baby… and we cried a river over it….

CRAZY MAKING

For anyone that doesn’t know, the hormones of a pregnant woman are one of the wonders of nature… and this is actually a good thing.  That said, the body takes a while to catch up to the fact that something has changed in a major way, and the emotional roller coaster it creates in the process is pretty intense.

Nat really felt like she was losing her mind, and she was really angry at me for the loss of the baby.  It wasn’t a particularly rational anger, but it was pretty intense none the less.

I woke up in the wee morning hours one night to Nat sobbing uncontrollably.  I asked what was wrong, and she told me “I think I’m losing my mind.”  Later that morning, I went to put something in the garage, and there was broken glass EVERYWHERE.  She had smashed a few big bins of glass recycling to smithereens.  That evening, she told me she had woken up seething with anger, seriously thought about killing me while I slept, and when she went into the kitchen to get a knife, saw some glass recycle and decided to break glass instead.

And so it went…

What I finally realized, is that the intensity of our circumstances was just the place of expression for what didn’t work between us.  Nat lived for confrontation, and I tended to be more steady, and she needed to get a rise out of me, or else she felt unsatisfied with our relationship.

This expressed itself on a pretty regular basis with her inappropriate behavior towards other men, the intent being to get a reaction out of me.  It took a while for me to really realize why she was doing this…  I just couldn’t imagine game playing at that level… it wasn’t a part of my lexicon of behavior.  I’m sure no saint… that’s for sure… that just isn’t my deal.

It was another gut feeling that finally led me to figure out what was going on.  After a couple of pretty bad scenes, I had pretty well made it clear I wasn’t playing this game any more.

This scenario ended up replaying itself with the neighbor across the street, a guy 10 years younger than Nat.  That was finally the last straw…

… I was done playing, and she thought we should separate.  I agreed, but had decided we were going to do more than separate… we were getting a divorce for sure.  I never brought it up, because she arrived at the same idea the next day.

I moved out, we divorced a few months later, and she ended up having a baby with the kid (darn near) across the street.  He finally left her when she was 5 months pregnant with number 2 kid, for a cute gal more her age.

It’s not a very exciting story… and I am quite some distance from the initial anger and duress of that time.  In a very real way, I felt like I had been spared a hellish existence by virtue of us breaking up… and as horrible as losing our baby was, raising a baby with Nat would have been like a special occasion version of misery and frustration.

Nat bounced around a bit, became a born again Christian (which, oddly, actually seemed to help her).

I saw her a couple of years ago, and she let me know I was going to hell, because “the bible says so”, based on my beliefs being divergent from hers.

A lot of water has passed under the bridge, so to speak, since then, and I have come to understand a great deal about my own shortcomings as a partner.  Knowing them before all this, the outcome would have likely remained the same.  But, looking at my own part, I do know myself better than I did.

A few things I (hope) I have learned from my experiences with and since Nat.

- I can always have done more, for my part.  It might not help… it might be completed wasted on the person or situation… but it will always help me live better with me… eventually.

- No matter what I think I’ve learned, I am perfectly capable of overruling my gut instincts,
if presented with a sufficiently attractive motivation to do so, even when those about me can clearly see I am making an unwise

- ALWAYS listen to your gut feeling

- Don’t fraternize with those who are crazy, or at least crazier than you.  They will make YOU
crazy!

- When someone tells you how “they used to be”… LISTEN UP!  If they haven’t also explained
in a compelling way why they have changed for the better, then they are likely STILL THE WAY THEY “USED TO BE”.

- Someone who will leave someone else to be with you, will almost ALWAYS leave you to do the same thing once again.

- Did I say always listen to your gut?

That’s what happened, from my perspective… and… interestingly, Nat, a few years later admitted she was really off the wall…

I have NO idea if there is anything remotely useful in this little snippet of a time in my life… a VERY DIFFICULT time, with a lot of loss in a brief span.

The other thing I have learned with ABSOLUTE CERTAINTY… is that time, even though it feels it will NEVER get better… time does wear the sharp edges of painful experience off enough to make it possible, at a later time, to pick it up and examine things honestly, without cutting yourself up.

D.Y.