Bon Voyage

Well, it certainly wasn't one of my finest moments, but I must say it was one that kept me giggling all day, especially after confirming with a friend that it was not an over the top, heinous, evil move on my part.

So where to start...

I haven't yet gone into the story of Jackass, but the nano version is that I was in an abusive relationship for nearly 20 years with a man who I now understand to be a sociopath. Bona fide. No, I'm not kidding.

I had the audacity to leave my marriage to said individual after a number of twisted events/discoveries that culminated in him physically assaulting me in front of our two young children. This is a decision for which I have been, and fully expect to continue to be, "punished" for a very long time.

Jackass is the ultimate manipulator, with finely honed skills that span the passive-aggressive spectrum. But when he volleyed his latest the other day, I couldn't resist: I hit one back.

I had a voicemail from an airline (one that I have never, not once in my life flown) informing me of my confirmation number and letting me know that I could check-in online. I knew he was scheduled to travel (due to re-arranging our childrens' schedule) but I intentionally did not ask where, or exactly for how long, he would be gone. To not show even the slightest remote interest in this was denying him what is termed "narcissistic supply", which is quite an affront to someone in the Cluster B category (google this if you want to learn more--it's morbidly fascinating that there are these sub-humans living amongst us).

Anyway, because there is absolutely no earthly reason why this airline would have my cell phone number associated with his name, I knew immediately that this was his way of "hoovering", i.e. trying to engage me, to place himself back into my thoughts and emotions (I have gone what is termed LC, for "low contact", which tends to incite this type of behavior). And when I decided to logon and check things out, I also realized that this was an attempt to dangle in front of me something that he knew that I had wanted: a trip to Greece. Yes, within months before my leaving him, he and I had intended to go, to rent a little villa for a couple of weeks in some romantic locale, and to escape into a state of bliss. Or something like that. Anyway, the old me would have been hurt by the prospect of him doing this with someone else. That no longer matters to me, although I did have a moment of being pretty pissed that it was him and not me, who is getting to make this trip. After all, it is still on my bucket list of the top 5 places I want to explore before...well, you know, before no longer needing that list. So I suppose this is what prompted me to do what I did.

I pondered my options for a minute or so---cancel the flight? No. Too vengeful, not my style at all. Do nothing? No. I heard in the back of my head the voice of my therapist, who maintains that "bad" behavior by these types should be discouraged. So then it came to me. The seating chart. With one little click, a reassignment from that window seat near the front of coach to a middle seat in the middle column, in the very last row by the lavatories. To be fair (well ok, and to minimize his figuring this out in advance of boarding), I changed only the international flight, not the domestic one.

So there you go...I have learned to return those curveballs.

Oh, and hope you had a good flight, Jackass. All 9 hours and 40 minutes.

Three Sentences

Ok, first off, I know it's been a really, really long time since my last post. This doesn't mean that I haven't been writing or even more importantly, that I haven't been thinking. A tremendous amount of activities--some medical, some not--coupled with an introverted state of mind, account for this.

Fast forward to now. Ended up in the hospital earlier this week with a post-surgical complication that was so painful that I truly was scared that I might die. This level of fear is rare for me, and as it turns out, one of the docs told me that had the problem been left unresolved, it easily could have been fatal (tangential note to self: congratulations on coming out of a 20-year fog and re-learning to trust your intuition). During my transport in the ambulance from my physician's office to the hospital (when we still didn't grasp what the problem was other than there was pain that couldn't be controlled, even by narcotics), I felt compelled to compose something to leave for my children in the event of...ummm...well...you know.....

Anyway, I kept it to 3 sentences, thinking ever pragmatically that 3 sentences would be easy to write or to dictate to someone if needed. Here is the distillation of thoughts that were running rampant during that ride:


To my most Special Boy and my most Precious Boy,

The purpose of life: To leave the world in a better condition than it was when you entered.

Instructions: Try to live every day with integrity and to take as many opportunities as you reasonably can to experience the joy of putting someone else ahead of yourself.

Parting words: I certainly am at a great loss to tell you how deeply I love each of you, but I hope that one day when you have a child of your own, this experience will more than make up for my lack of words--especially if you remember back to this note and double the bliss, gratitude, and wondrous blessing that you feel the first time you hold your special, precious newborn in your arms.

All my love, forever and always--
Mommy


As I transcribe these thoughts tonight and think more about the things that seemed most fundamental and heart-felt that day, I still stand by them. What you (my boys) don't yet know is that I am starting to create books and boxes for each of you, books and boxes that will be filled with photos, reading lists, stories of your childhood, birthday and bar mitzvah gifts, and to my best effort, the types of conversations that I hope to have with you as you grow into young men, but that will nevertheless be written down "just in case". By no means is this even remotely a mind-set of "giving up"--but for my own peace of mind, especially as I go through treatment, it is imperative to me that you have as much as possible, whatever I can give you--should that day come too soon. And for every year that passes, I will celebrate with immense joy and gratitude for the milestones that we have shared, and smile in private victory as I move yet another item or letter into your "before" box.

This is much of what has captured my focus and kept me from completing draft posts that have been lingering untouched for the past few months. Oh, and compilation of a second bucket list*--one that I am planning for the stuff I want to do after I die. I promise to be back soon.

*item number 1 is to take dance lessons from Michael Jackson