Pancakes Taste Like Poverty: And Other Post-Divorce Revelations (29 page)

But
you know me, once I identify the problem I stop it immediately.
I
gathered the kids and made a declaration that from now until I change
my mind,
Jordis
is the oldest child.
This, of course, delighted her because she
thought it meant she'd get some perks of some sort. Jaya, the oldest,
usually gets to keep her electronics at night because she's
responsible. Jordis's eyes gleamed.
She didn't realize it meant
that I would expect from her all the things I had expected from Jaya.
Jordis was now the go-to for chores and tasks. I expected her to
resist and throw tantrums.
I got the complete opposite. She
loved it. She absolutely loved it. She went above and beyond. She
wiped windows I never asked her to wipe. She poured us drinks. She
tried to make me coffee in the morning.
It was like liquid
cocaine. But I drank it because I could see how proud she was of
herself.
Jordis was bratty and high-maintenance because she
didn't feel
needed
.
Jaya had a role because she is the oldest. She is the
doer.
Jack had a role because he's “the man of the house.”
He's the guy who catches the lizards and shoo's the spiders.
Jordis
was the baby.

That
was it.
No wonder she was angry. I didn't give her a reason to
feel
capable
or proud of herself.
Plus, just like the situation with Jack,
when I caved to her whining and her fits I was
also
telling her she didn't have the tools to handle her feelings.
When
I gave her the ice cream, yes, on one level it was just ice cream. On
another it was, “the other two can handle disappointment, but
you obviously can't, so here!”
Every time I relented, she
got what she wanted but she
also
got her mother giving up on her and giving in. That's no message to
send.
So the birth order flip-flop was designed to remedy all of
that. I had to train myself to see her as capable. She had to
discover
that she was capable.
And the birth order flip-flop worked well
for Jaya, too, who'd grown tired of being the go-to helper. She was
always so irritated when she cooked something and the two littles
asked for some, too. After a few weeks off she was sort of offended
that no one asked her to cook anymore!
I also made a chart for
the two little ones who were falling behind in their self-care after
receiving tablets from my sister for Christmas.
I made them a
deal. I wrote out that they were to nurture their bodies, minds and
space every day.
This meant clean bodies, schoolwork done and
space tidied.
For every five days in a row they got this done,
they got their tablets back. If they missed a day, the five days
started over. And
both
of them had get it done, so this helped them learn how to motivate
each other. Any rude language used toward each other meant offender
had to write five things they love about the other and a written
apology, and the five things had to be new each time.
There have
been some sweet letters and they've all grown super close. I always
catch them hugging each other. I don't know if that's normal because
I didn't grow up with siblings but I think it's precious.
In
short, my parenting game is on point.

Single
– February 2014

It’s
the day before Valentine’s Day
and it’s
been three years and four days since my divorce was finalized and
there are twelve days until my 32nd birthday.

My blog is exactly three
years old.

I am here to report that my
stay-single-for-as-long-as-possible plan worked.

When I started this journey, my “self”
had no outline. I was, as Liz Gilbert coined, a “permeable
membrane.” I had no boundaries. Everything and everyone came in
and occupied me and seeped out as easily.

Now my outline is permanent marker thick-dark and
solid.

Every week it seems I learn a new skill, and not
arbitrary ones like “learning to play poker” but
universal ones like “learning when to remove people from my
life” and “learning to protect my space” like my
inner Warrior leads me to do.

I have become katana-sharp at identifying and
removing users and takers.

The sort of thick, heavy obligation and guilt
that used to accompany my fear of people’s reactions to my
boundaries is gone.

I know there is a lot of romantic notion around
the idea of fighting for someone. Rom-Coms and chick-flicks abound
with people “fighting” for love and “fighting”
for friendship.

I have found, in my life, that this has never
been necessary.

And the relationships in which I’m always
fighting to keep or please or satisfy or soothe someone, and vice
versa, are the least healthy.

The people I can rely on the most in my
day-to-day are actually really easy to get along with.

It’s just easy. We’re all fine and
living our lives.

The friendships are as
automatic
and unconscious as breathing.

And that’s become the driving force in my
boundary making. I know it won’t always be roses and cupcakes
in all my relationships all the time, but I expect it to be pretty
low-maintenance, easy - breezy at least the majority of the time.

I know I sound like a monster when I say, “I
won’t fight to keep you.”

But I really exist in a space where I am
comfortable with the ebbs and flows of human interaction. People come
and go. People change. People are good for you when you’re
twenty-five and are neutral for you when you’re thirty. People
who you barely noticed when you were fifteen may be your rock when
you are forty.

The
only
constant is change so the idea
that your humans will always be exactly the same
how-you-need-them-where-you-left-them is just silly.

And speaking of relationships...

Deep Sigh

Three years out of my divorce and I still haven’t
seriously dated. This seems to be more upsetting to the people around
me than to myself so I’ll take a moment to explain and respond
to some of the well-meaning rhetoric that comes my way.

I’ve noticed that being uninterested in
dating is what I imagine it’s like to be a married couple
uninterested in having children. People say to me, “don’t
worry, it’ll happen…” as if I’m spending all
my free time worried about the next time I make a poor choice in life
partner.

It’s an assumptive little microagression,
implying I am are somehow incomplete without romantic cohabitation
and coupling.

People also say “you’ll find someone,
you deserve to be happy.”

Hmm, so apparently it’s impossible to be
happy alone. I guess I’m a walking and talking figment of my
own imagination, then.

People say “you just need to find someone
to sleep with, to get your groove back.”

Uhhhh, anyone who knows me well knows I had a
very thorough sexual exploration period. I have no doubt that my
groove is just fine. Secondly, “just finding someone to sleep
with” sounds like the least interesting thing ever to me right
now. I spent a decade having sex with someone I neither respected nor
loved. I think detached sex is the
last
thing I need.

Let me tell you a little something…

This period in my life is, by far, the happiest I
have ever been. I got a katana in one hand and a black permanent
marker in the other. I have eagle-sharp super focus on exactly what I
want to do with my life. I am actually, for real, kinda in love with
myself. I love the results of my parenting. I love my amazing group
of friends. I love my relationship with my parents and grandparent
and siblings.
I just feel really full, and solid, and clear, and
sharp, and powerful right now.

I’m not sure if I would have gotten to this
place had I not endured loneliness for a little while. I didn’t
run from my demons. I wasn’t driven by insecurity to hurry up
and couple up. I set a damn table for my Issues, served ‘em tea
and got well-acquainted until the demons and Issues weren’t the
scaries banging at the door or the creepies that came out in dark
times.
I knew them by name.

“
Alone”
just doesn’t scare me anymore. Not now and not even when I look
into the distant future. The way I feel toward romance is the way I
feel toward a pair of pink Converse. I’d really like to have it
but I’m not exactly looking, and if I never get it I won’t
care
that
much. This finally feels more like a truth than a
defense mechanism. But the ultimate reality about dating right now is
this:

I absolutely have no room to nurture and water
new relationships while I’m not even able to support me and
mine independently. And to be frank, I don’t feel I’ve
earned
that room. And that’s okay.
I
am comfortable with that.

I have plenty of “me time.”
I
have plenty of relationships that nourish me.
I’d love to
spend time with new people but, if it isn’t easy and
low-maintenance, then later for it.

A new romantic relationship is a time-suck. It
requires a lot of resources.

I don’t have those things right now.

That said, of course I know that, despite my
Spock-like love of rationality and cost/benefit calculations,
sometimes life is just random. I am
open
to the idea of a
relationship. But (Inner Spock won’t relent) given my lack of
availability, I don’t see it happening.

Right now I’m the ringleader of a traveling
circus. If a man sees my dazzling, spectacular show and can run real
fast and hop on the train I’d be happy to accommodate him as
long as he’s willing to do some work. But the show must go on,
and this train doesn’t make special stops…

Tomorrow I am going to a friend’s house.
Fellow single parents and our kids will get together to celebrate our
singleness. Only this time, it’s not irony. I’m not
jealous of my friends in relationships. I really celebrate my
singleness. Jessica Vivian 2.0 is here and I’m wild and fierce
and brave and clear and sharp and dangerous and slippery and
unstoppable.

All by my big girl self.

The End

Afterword

Hey
there, friend.
So, I bet you're wondering how things turned out.

Well,
I'm still single though I have been on a few dates. It's still not a
priority to me right now but I have certainly softened to the idea.

I
did make it back into college! Yay!!!
I was only able to pay for
two classes but those two classes are going well. Once my GPA is up
I'll be able to apply for Financial Aid and go full steam.
One
amazing thing happened, though!
I settled on a TESOL program
(this is so I can teach English abroad) and couldn't afford it. I'd
helped a lot of single moms over the last few years and decided to
just go out on a limb and see if anyone would help me. I made a
fundraiser site and shared it on Facebook. Then, later that morning I
was playing with a friend's deck of Tarot cards and picked the Wheel
of Fortune.
When I checked my fundraiser site that evening I'd
raised the 2K I needed to get my TESOL program started.
How d'ya
like dem apples?
As for my blog, I closed it shortly after
that last chapter. I just got tired of talking about myself, frankly.
I was tired of my own voice. I had nothing to say. The blog was about
sharing my feelings and started to be about feeding my ego. I felt
like I was regressing. Everything is moving forward and I'm trying to
be less cerebral and more action-oriented. So it had to go.
Looking
back over those years I am most taken by the amount of spontaneous
love being exchanged. People, without any logical reason, just
sharing and giving in love. Single-parents wrote me and said “I
wish I had a community like yours in my town!” and I'd always
respond with “So make one!”
“How?” they
always asked and really I had no answer. I'd suggest just asking
their friends over to get real but not until now did I truly
understand what makes it happen.
Vulnerability.
By
putting my junk out there so freely, I made myself vulnerable.
Being
vulnerable is a lot like being the first one on the dance floor at
prom – which I was, with my friend Elizabeth, off to the side a
bit where no one would
really
notice but visible
enough
.
If
the
goal
of the evening is having a good time,
someone
has to get the party started.
It feels really icky and alone and
awkward. Everyone is just looking at you.
I knew we looked like
the weird girls. I mean, we
were
weird girls. That's a whole other book...
But eventually someone
joined in. And someone else. And someone else.
Before you know
it, it's a sho nuff party. No one remembers or cares who got on the
dance floor first, or how awkward they were, or whether or not they
could dance. They are just relieved they didn't have to go first and
grateful the fun is happening before it's too late and we all have to
go home.
Connecting is kind of like that.
I wanted to
connect
and help people. I wanted support.
So I put my junk out there
first
.
And other people joined me. And someone else. And someone else until
communities were built and connections were made.
I'm sure people
were relieved and grateful for the communities, even if they were
temporary.
Now is the time for me to say thanks to all
my peeps.
I'd like to thank all my volunteer editors: Simon,
Toyia, Carrieann, Rachel, Aimee and Michelle. I'd like to thank
Chris for being a really stellar best friend and for the picture of
the pancakes because you know I'm not making any.
I'd like to
thank the Wolfpack, current and former and all over the place, for
just being the most powerful, electric, gentle, complex, multifaceted
bunch of broads I've ever encountered.
I'd like to thank the
Sistas Without Mistas across the globe. We got dis.
I'd like to
thank My MOM!!! You have NEVER EVER EVER EVER let me fall on my face.
You have always believed in me, even when I don't and even when maybe
I don't deserve it, ha!
I'd like to thank my sister. You're the
brains of this operation. How we haven't driven you mad is beyond
me.
I'd like to thank a certain blog reader who donated the money
to help me apply to more colleges. Just....thank you so much for
believing in me.
I'd like to thank Papa, Vicky and Amanda for
being cool.
I'd like to thank My Dad and Stepmom, Carly for all
the pep talks and listening ears.
I'd like to thank my
ex-husband most of all. I don't know why we crossed paths. Perhaps it
was only to facilitate the inclusion of those three little souls on
this Earth. But thank you for that. And I hope, from the deepest
depths of my soul, you get what you need so that you can have peace
and believe in yourself. Despite everything, I root for you.
And
I'd like to thank my amazing babies. Jaya the Wise, Jack the Gentle,
Jordis The Snuggly.
I love you all to the moon and back.
J.Viv