I said I would share how I got to the other side. The whole learning to like myself thing.

Along the way, I have learned to be kind. I have learned to practice empathy.

The empathy lessons came from Brene Brown’s book I Thought It Was Just Me. Those lessons helped me when I got shat upon from The Dude’s ex.

A month later when the 13 year old had an emergency appendectomy, I reached out to her, telling her whatever she needed I was here. (I should mention that my new house – my smaller home – is 5 houses down from hers.) When I checked in to see how he was doing, she answered. Then I checked to see how SHE was doing. Because that kindness cost me nothing. I chose to be one mama reaching out to another. Regardless of all the reasons I could have lined up to not care, I chose kindness when I knew she was alone in that hospital room with her baby boy.

I’ve chosen to listen to others and to TRY to say a kind word. Something supportive. I’ve made an effort to reach out to others via twitter, facebook, blog comments. Nothing huge, but just that small giving back after how much I have been given. The “thinking of you” email to let someone know they just aren’t completely alone. I know the value of receiving that now, so I’m trying to pass it on.

I’m learning to be kind to myself. I have yet to make it to the grocery store . . . in the last 2 weeks. I have these grand plans of menu planning – yet I’ve ordered pizza FOUR times this week. I was trying to figure out why I couldn’t get off my ass and get that errand done – and then reminded myself of the installing hardwood in my house this week. With Alex. Me and a 4 year old doing construction. (Those photos are of just the one room I did. I don’t have the ones up yet of the room I cleaned, painted and put the flooring in.)

I encouraged myself while doing that flooring project, “What a great job you are doing. I know it’s fucking hotter than hell in here, I know you are sweating and thirsty and Alex is wanting to help, you are being so patient with him and plugging away at this project. It will look so good when you are done. I am so proud of you for tackling this yourself.”

Tonight I chose to buy some yummy yarny fiber goodness – seriously pretty handmade hand dyed fiber batts – from an acquaintance needing money to cover moving expenses. Was it the BEST use of my money? Maybe not, but I felt good to help when she asked. I sent along a kind note with my purchase, hoping the words were as helpful as the cash money.

Most important, I am kind to Alex. I make a point NOW of saying, “Buddy, thank you for helping me with the floor.” or “Bear, I love when you sit with me while I work.” or “Alex, I know you don’t like me saying no, I know it’s hard, and I’m sorry, but you HAVE TO GO TO BED FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.”

So. Kindness. The new Black.

Kindness also looks great in firelight.

I mentioned that I like myself yeah?

In my comments, someone asked if I could teach them how to get here. Well, I don’t know that I can, but I can try over the next while here to attempt.

So Imma start with God. Nononononono, please don’t stop reading. Please. I’m not here to convert you or tell you that anything you believe isn’t absolutely valid. Please read.

I believe that my purpose of life is to learn as much as possible and grow as much as possible.

That’s it. That’s what I believe to be true for each of us.

Learn.

Grow.

Because of that point of view, I can incorporate and support just about any belief that anyone has.

Because of this belief, I believe that some people are meant to know God like I do, know God in any form they do, or not know God at all. Whatever your belief or your path in anything related to faith or what have you, I believe is all part of helping you learn and grow.

I believe the same for prayer public and private.

I say this now at the beginning of this trying to show how I got from where I was to where I am. For me a part of what got me here is this relationship with God, but it is very important to me that you know I don’t expect you to believe what I believe, I just hope you can see where I am coming from with the whole Learn and Grow thing.

So my core belief that got me here is that I believe that everything that has happened to me has been to help me learn and grow. I can either use these experiences to HELP me and make all the pain that has come from them MEAN something . . . or not.

In my case, I have learned that I can either learn the damn lesson the first time, or I can put it off and have to learn it later. However, waiting for later has meant the catalyst experience has to be even larger which has meant more painful. Which, hello, sucktastic.

Going forward, what else do you want to know? I will try to pick out the things that I know have brought me to this place of knowing I am enough, I would just like to do my best to share with you what you want to know. I’ve walked this road and I’d like to help you on your road the best I can.

There.

I said it. I debated saying it, wondering if  it would sound too arrogant and you might roll your eyes at me like Zooey does.

I got married six years ago tonight. Tonight, Scout and I wished each other Happy First Unanniversary. I’m sorry we were not right for being married to each other, and the trip out over the 4th just reaffirmed that. But damn, I’m glad we figured out we like each other way better from a distance. He’s one of my favorite people text at random moments.

I feel a smidge like a fraud being all “ooooh I lurve meeee” when I’m popping zoloft daily and loving hydrocodone for a sleep aid.

Hey, I’m honest with ya’ll.

*shrugs*

Oh, I’m naked in bed right now while I’m writing.

Sometimes I overshare.

I like that about me too.

I’m still not skinny. Right now I don’t care.

Tonight I like myself, and I can’t understand why I ever didn’t.

But I know. I know all the shit I pull on myself that deserves a bitch slap talk to my own hand.

Right now I’m over it. I’ve called myself on my shit.

Right now, I have no fear. I used to have two huge fears. 1. That I couldn’t be a good parent to Alex on my own. Myth. Busted. 2. That the Dude would leave me for someone else and I would be alone. See 1. for additional reasons why that freaked me out.

Well it happened. The exact thing I feared most, it happened.

And I survived it.

And I kicked its ass.

And after all this time . . .

I fucking like myself.

I treat myself better.

I work myself harder. Because I trust my abilities now. I know I can do this. I got this thing. No matter what this “thing” is.

I trust myself. I trust my gut, I listen to my gut.

I understand what I believe about God and the whole wtf is the meaning of my life.

I get what path I’m supposed to be on (and I’m on it). I get what I’m supposed to be learning.

I fucking GET. IT.

I get me.

Amen.

*apparently the pharma kicked in while I was writing this, I may not remember any of this in the morning. So good thing I wrote it down now eh?*

I have excellent friends. You know this – you are one of them.

Zooey was my first “adult” friend. As in the first friend I made as a post college grad, on my own terms, friend.

Zooey was married (still is) to probably my polar opposite.

The first I knew of him was a hyena cackle coming from the kitchen at work after he put a burrito in the microwave that was wrapped in foil. Oops.

I call Zooey on his shit.

He calls me on mine. Well, ever since he let me go get married when he knew it was a really horrifying idea.

There is a . . . tension between us. His wife knows it. Stupid she ain’t. (okay so there is one thing we have in common.)

But that’s it – a tension. An untapped potential that we’ve never touched because we acknowledge it’s existence and respect that it would fuck up the friendship and the other relationships we have.

We have, on occasion, looked at the other one and said, “I’m getting the fuck out of here before I do something stupid.”

I love him in a way I don’t anyone else. Probably because his shoes have never parked under my bed.

He called and we talked about him for a change. Cuz things have been pretty all about me here lates.

I beat him around a little with my words – after all, that was why he had called.

We talked about the blog. He said he’s been reading – even though every time he sees the link he rolls his eyes about the goddam self help shit yet again – and then he reads it and feels better.

He reminded me that ten years ago I wanted to pull an etch-a-sketch on my life, pour bleach in my brain to get myself clean – and that I never had done that – so here I was, finally getting it done.

Which is yet another reason why I need him in my life – I’d forgotten about that exact example – but oh how accurate.

So today I am thankful for my Zooey.

Zo – I still intend to kiss you on the forehead while standing knee deep in the ocean – someday – but until then, remember – the best thing about the beach is who you let yourself be when your toes are in the sand. xoxo – Fran.

Now that I am on the other side of the grief – lemme tell you . . . it got bad.

There is a post sitting in my drafts where I would just pour out all the sadness and hit save and walk away.

I don’t know if I will ever open it to read.

I have another post where I saved each comment from facebook and twitter from my original post about the breakup.

I don’t know if I will ever open it to re-read. But I’m grateful it is there.

I slept those first couple of weeks. Non stop. I would get out of bed and go to work. Shutting myself off by putting on the blinders of “don’t talk to me, can’t you see I’m so busy being a good employee?”

I would come home and sleep.

Not eating. That 25 pounds I lost? Not healthy. I’ll take it as a perk, but seriously? Going three days without eating – and not giving a fuck that I wasn’t eating? Badness.

There was an awareness of how much pain I was in.

And there was an awareness that I could make that pain . . . stop.

I’m livin’ in a pharmaceutical world. I didn’t research it, but I was pretty certain there was enough Xanax and Vicodin in the cabinet to solve any pain issues I was having.

I’d previously fantasized about how easy it would be to make a nice cocktail and watch the Dude down it unknowingly.

Now I just sat aware that I could solve my problem of pain without doing any work.

And I tell you this for two reasons.

When I say I am good now – when I say I am on the other side, I want you to understand clearly how far I have come and what a painful, difficult victory it is for me to sit here for the first time in my life and clearly know I am OKAY. And even when I am temporarily not okay, I know I can find my way back to where I am this moment.

The other reason is that yesterday, one of my dearest friends was asking me if I’d ever struggled with depression. Uh yes. Yes my love. She had her own questions and her own struggle and was wondering if it was time to walk the road of the little white pills. I was frank with her about anything she asked (I know you are surprised.) Today she sent a message saying, “Thank you for sharing part of your most personal struggles. I really appreciate it.”

And that’s when I knew I needed to get this post out. If I’m going to share part of my most personal struggles then I think I need to be honest and tell you just how bad it got.

How bad I got.

I don’t know how to end this particular post. I wish I was graceful and poetic in this moment.

I wanted to die. Now I want to live.

And if you are reading these words, then you are part of the puzzle that has brought me to this happy place.

So thank you.

I’m not saying my gut work or my listening work or my forgiveness work is done, but I think I have learned the hard lessons, the basic lessons.

The next part is to work on some clearing out of the old.

Which for me will very much take shape as literally cleaning house.

I have too much shit. Too many projects. Too much clutter.

Everyone who has ever lived with me will agree.

It makes me hard to live with.

And how unfair.

I am my own worst enemy when it comes to making a home.

One of the very most important things to me is having a home where I feel comfortable and the rest of world feels welcome.

But no one feels comfortable because of all my shit thrown everywhere.

So my next project is to clear out the crap to make room for the joy.

I started with my car.

Which was strangely painful. I found little things that reminded me of the life with the Dude. And I set some of them aside, and a lot I threw away.

I kept what was needed and dumped out the crap.

Symbolic much?