Putting My Blue Cape On

My last husband would tell me that when I was in fight mode, taking on a cause, I was "putting my blue cape on." That was his expression that meant I was becoming my superpowered alter ego, Super Blue Cape Woman. Usually this meant that I was taking on too much, and maybe I should just take it easy, stop fighting the impossible fight. And I would back down, a bit, but never completely.

I'm older and more tired, but I still put the cape on, as I am now putting on the cape, taking on an impossible fight in my life. However, now having been drained by the experience of taking this all on myself, I now know how to enlist the help of others. I think I now have a new super powerful weapon – the net, which I cast out in all directions, to all resources. I learned this summer when you cast this net out far enough, you can get help in the least expected places. I haven't gotten that help yet, but that doesn't mean I am going to stop trying. I think because there are fewer and fewer super resources out there, I just need to keep casting further and further.

Thank goodness I'm Super Blue Cape Woman. Otherwise I don't think I'd have the stamina to sustain this fight.

Getting My Point Across

A good friend of mine, a mentor, told me that breaking in new relationships is difficult because we hold on to our old behaviors, hoping the new person in our life will immediately understand and react the way other people in our lives have reacted. She told me about the early days with her husband and what she referred to as the "pouting couch." When things weren't going his way, and he wasn't successful in getting his point across to her, he would go to the couch – the pouting couch. One day after they talked about this behavior, it became clear to her that he went and pouted because she wasn't behaving in the same way that his mother did when he was upset. Eventually, after talking, they reached a middle ground where she would listen to him, and, while not always giving him his way (as his mother had done), she would offer more understanding. And that was enough.

Sometimes it's tough to put into words what we want, because we expect the other person to know. Even my mother had a hard time with me – she felt I was too sensitive, and if I would get upset about something, she'd give the usual line that that's the way life is, and people have it tougher than you. Of course, this didn't make me feel better. It wasn't until I got a little older that she found that the secret was to hug me, tell me that, yeah, life sucks sometimes and it's just not fair, is it? And then she would make me laugh. Sometimes she would be way off in her assessment of some situation (like telling me that my ex left me because I was not longer able to support him financially), but even across the miles she could cheer me up and make me laugh. I know that she would like to fix all my problems, but both she and I knew that this just wasn't possible, so just listening and understanding and knowing what it feels like when everything seems to be hitting at once and the walls feel as if they are closing in on you was just enough. And making me laugh – that was the salve I needed the most.

Like a Child

I can imagine that I must be exhausting to you. Like a child sometimes. I get crumbs everywhere, and I don't even realize they're on me. I surround myself with pets that I often don't have time to take care of myself. I cry for no good reason. I'm still in school – at my age, I'm still in school! I may own my house, but I have a hard time taking care of it. I don't even drive a decent car, for God's sake! How annoying that must be! It's no wonder you sometimes think I should be with someone younger. I probably wear you out just being me. Sometimes I don't know how I put up with myself.

It's too bad you didn't know me before. Back when I was more responsible. When I put in my forty hours a week at a job that I didn't like, but at least I was paying the bills. I wasn't chasing some silly dream. I wasn't this mid-life child – some grotesque Baby Huey in the classroom, someone that the kids would whisper about: "What's she doing here? She's as old as my mother!" Someone who was probably a lot easier to understand.

It's too bad you didn't know me when I was hyper-responsible. When I took care of everything. When I was the Wendy to the clan of Peter Pans.

Someday I'll grow up. I'll be responsible. Maybe I won't hate my job as much. I hope I don't, but I don't know. I just know I won't be where I am now. Stuck out here – in limbo.

Strange Things Happening

"You know, I'm hurting, too." This was what my ex wrote in a note to me, several days after he just decided to take all his stuff and move out. I had expressed my feeling to him (in a note? I don't remember), but this was his response. And now, several months later, I look at this and realize this was the crux of the problem. Because in our marriage, it didn't matter what I felt. If I felt bad, he felt worse. And it was, as he would explain, usually my fault.

Tonight I expressed my feelings to the new person in my life. And a strange thing happened – he apologized. No smart remark, no "oh yeah, well how do you think I feel?" And the funny thing was, I didn't expect an apology. I didn't expect anything. I just wanted to say how I felt. I just didn't realize someone I could be in a relationship with would listen and understand and not try to put his needs before mine.

This isn't the first time this has happened and I don't think it will be the last. It's just weird for me – knowing now what it's like to be in a good, healthy, normal, loving relationship. Strange but wonderful.