Discombobulation

In 1989, when I was spending a semester in Morocco, I remember when our small group of American students encountered a large group of American tourists at some archeological site. They were the stereotypical polyester-wearing group of retiree couples, pudged out and a little dazed. One of the men started talking to us, and I remember him saying, in a southern accent that was too genuine to be faked, “Hey, do y’all speak Ar-AY-bic?” When we told him we had indeed learned some of the language on our homestay program, he shook his head in amazement. When we told him we were American, he was even more astonished. “I didn’t know they were American,” he told his wife a couple of times, and then their group stumbled off to some other important site.

I feel like that man right now. I feel like I’ve been tossed bodily into another country, and I’m as dazed and hazy as an unsuspecting tourist. I feel fragile, jagged, and broken. They say that divorce is crazy time, and now I can understand why. I had expected a break, because we finally figured out the money and custody arrangements. Sure, my ex is still angry as heck, but I didn’t expect the process to be so difficult at this point. I guess planning and fighting the battle at least provided focus, and now I’m facing the rest of my life.

We started the custody schedule a couple of weeks ago. He gets the kids around 36% of the time and I have them around 64%. A good deal for me, right? But I’m still suffering. When talking about her divorce, Sandra Tsing Loh described “pieces of flaming jet fuselage that continue to plummet.” I feel that way too…whether it’s pain over losing my in-laws and connections to my ex’s country, or thoughts about how my family of origin remains in pieces since my father’s death last fall, or grief over a friend who I lost – not mortally, thank God, but in the way that female friendships end. It’s all emotional, but it feels physical as well. In yoga class today, I discovered pains that I didn’t even know I had. The breathing and stretching helped, because I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath to ground myself.

If I were to wish for something for Christmas (bad Jew that I am), it would be balance. Because my life is so topsy-turvy right now. My ex had the kids for the past two nights, and I just couldn’t settle down at home in their absence. Luckily on the first night, my son had a Cub Scout meeting that I was able to attend. I saw all 3 kids, and X was pissed about that. But yesterday I didn’t see them at all, although I did speak to them on the phone at night. At home alone, I get these urges to organize and clean, but I’m so tired and I also feel a competing urge to relax and watch mediocre movies. Then I feel guilty because I haven’t taken advantage of my free time. And I feel sad and lonely with the free time. I know I need it, since taking care of 3 kids – ages 9, 7, and 4—does make one tired. But when I have the free time I miss them and want them back.

I feel like my life is a post-conflict darkling plain right now, with only dust and haze where structures once stood. I need to rebuild, but I can’t yet see how the rebuilding will unfold or what I will come up with. For some reason, I’m thinking of the book Harriet the Spy, who connected with her thoughts by writing them down. When someone took her notebook away, her thoughts came out very slowly. “Mad, I feel mad.” “Sad, I am sad.” Stuff like that. I kind of feel that way. Obviously, I can articulate my thoughts, but experience-wise I feel like I know nothing in this new setting. I feel like I’m wandering around like the dazed tourist I met in Morocco, not understanding the context and grabbing out to random strangers. I feel so needy, but also a bit pissed off. I wonder how other people have gotten through this. I know some people who have boyfriends or have even remarried. How does that work? Even before that, they go out dancing or travel to Bermuda for yoga weekends or do dating websites. And even before that, they manage to figure out a budget or get through a weekend without crying. How does it all work? How do I begin to reconstruct, while being so bogged down with emotion and need?

I can always go back to that same Barbara Kingsolver quote I’ve mentioned in past postings. I can follow the Rambo (or JC Superstar) philosophy of “day by day.” Sandra Tsing Loh says, “It is the mundane practicalities that eventually save us.” I mean, how would I normally prepare for a trip? I’d have a passport (my custody agreement?), books (yeah, got those), maybe some contacts (yep, I know some people), a return ticket (oops, not that), and above all, excitement about my travels. Well, I’m not quite there yet. At times I can get glimpses of a time in the future when I could hope to have hope. Sometimes. We’ll see.