Question: What Value Do I Have? Answer: Priceless

Welcome back. I am glad you returned after my last post, a confessional about the goings on in my life that are either too bad to not be good, too surreal to not be real, or too bizarre to be made up. Truth is always stranger than fiction, after all. 

Since my last post, I lost a friend I made through my work as a PSW and it hit me pretty hard to learn she passed away and with that knowledge comes the gravitas of knowing the summer we spent together last year was, in fact, her last summer ever. I didn't expect the news of her passing but it gave me an intense moment of pause. It threw everything about my life into stark contrast and it hit me hard to realize how important I had been to her in the last year. I was her friend, her confident, her support. I prepared meals for her, tended her flowers, helped her with her personal care and so much more. But through all of that, we formed a friendship and now I wonder if I took it for granted because I left that position as a PSW for other opportunities and I never saw her again. I meant to take the time to visit her, but time ran out and it ran out quickly. It was jarring, to say the least. I can't help but think I let her down, I hope that is not the case. All I know is she was extremely special to me and I loved her and I know she grew to love me, too. 

These last several years have been mostly an uphill climb for me, with moments of breathtaking beauty at every peak, and moments of darkness, coldness, and doubt in all the valleys in between. I spent the winter living in my camper and spent exorbitant amounts of money on propane to keep it heated. I struggled with the cold, I fought the cold and I learned a lot about taking care of my basic needs, all by myself. I don't mean to over-exaggerate my circumstances, I am simply saying I made the choice to just try it out. What am I able to do on my own? I needed to know. This is something new for me, being accustomed to married life, and though my ex-husband was never what I would call a handyman, he was always there to at least reassure me that I couldn't do something. Ha! I complain but the truth is, there was a time when he was very supportive of me as an artist. As for home improvement projects? Not often. And it turns out I can do quite a lot and I've learned this heart of mine sings like a songbird after a day of working on things that need done in my camper. Camper life, in case you haven't noticed, is on the rise in terms of popularity and there is a good reason why. Living in a camper is pretty great because its affordable, mainly, but it also engenders the philosophy behind tiny house living, which has been an obsession of mine for a while now. I find the greatest joy in the simplest things. I have said it before but I will say it again; less is more.

I am grateful I have struck a balance of joy versus the challenges of being recently divorced, not to mention coming to terms with very challenging circumstances that arose in my life in the last several years, which I wrote about in my previous post (you can read about it -->> Here). I am not one to wallow too long in self-pity because it is futile (or else perhaps I would do it all day) but I need to get it off my chest regarding the terrible things people have said to me since my ex-husband and I divorced. It started way back in 2019 when I confronted his brother openly on Facebook regarding some very questionable activity on his part. Somehow, the family had deluded themselves into thinking no one else in the community knew about what he was up to, or that it was somehow a big secret. I called it out into the limelight and was subsequently reprimanded by my ex-husband's father's girlfriend, aunt, and mother. To put it in a nutshell, they told me I was an embarrassment to the family. Me? The embarrassment? Not the guy doing property damage and upsetting elderly women? But me? The one who dared address it in public? Well to hush wagging tongues the reason I made a scene was because the last time this guy was at my home, he made a point to tell me how easy my apartment would be to break into, giving me the details of how he would do it with remarkable consideration. It was all a matter of self-defence on my part, but who ever asked me about my side of the story? Oh well. This event as well as many others precipitated my desire for a divorce. 

I expected a little backlash and won't deny that I may have even deserved a portion of that backlash, but what I didn't deserve was all the hateful things people said to me and about me since that event. My ex-husband's girlfriend called me up out of the blue one fine day last summer and told me I am a "crazy bitch" and a terrible mother, etc. I am sure I have mentioned this before but I can't help it. The injustice of it, let alone the hurtfulness of an action like that, is enough to cause me to hold a proper grudge like you would not believe (very self-destructive, I know). So I am going to talk about it as much as I feel I need to (this will be the last time). If you don't like it, of course you are free to skip over this part. The funny part about it all is the fact that I didn't even know my ex-husband had a girlfriend until that phone call, not for sure. And then all the pieces fell into place as a friend of mine had told me he was cheating on me and I didn't believe my friend. Uh-oh. Well, I believe him now. My ex-husband certainly never told me about her–that would have required honesty and honesty is just not part of his character. Beyond all of that, whatever ensued when I wasn't around, I ended up receiving a barrage of insults from other family members who told me I add no value to their lives, that I think I am better than everyone else, that I am this and I am that. I guess we all forgot about the whole "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all" thing. Some of this is definitely karma, but some of it is not. I didn't realize I represented such an enormous thorn in everyone else's side, but not once, throughout the difficulties of the last several years, did any of them ask me about my side of the story, or even if I am okay. Forget that the relationship I had with my children totally broke down, that I lost my home, studio, business prospects, or that my ex-husband sold everything he could get his hands on, including my university textbooks, and left me with almost nothing to start over with. It's sort of like the whole world balled up its fist and punched me right in the face. Well, with bloodied nose and blackened eyes (proverbial) I managed to pull myself together and get going anyway. I have learned that pain provides grit, grit provides strength. Add a little personally inherent determination (read stubbornness) and you have whatever I am. I think I am a human being, but the way I live my life seems otherworldly I guess, and I don't know if I feel too much or not enough, either way I would classify that as tangible proof God exists because if there was no God, I don't think I would or could enjoy life like I do because other people get really upset over a lot less (justifiably so). If I gauged my value against the way my family has made me feel? That gauge would be busted up and in the trash next to me. Good thing I don't trust their perspective because I know the evil that lurks within our veins and I know they are under an influence of some kind. It's a family thing, some call it a curse. You have to work extremely hard to overcome a curse, did you know that? 

What keeps me going is the fact that I am gleaning such joy from my everyday life, lately. I love the freedom of being the one in charge of everything in my life, especially things of a practical nature. If I see something needs fixed, I do my best to fix it. If I can make something better, I make it better. I sew curtains, I rearrange things constantly to fit just right in every spare space I can find. I pay my bills. I brush my teeth. I get my work done. I go to bed. I sleep. I wake up feeling excited about my life, as simple as it is.  

Without going into much detail, all this stuff has not left me unaffected. In fact, it hurt like h--- and speaking of hell, when I came to terms with the desperate straits I was in, it felt like all hell broke lose within me and I realize now I must have been holding onto many many years of anger because I totally exploded in rage, but not at anyone in my family (despite what they may think). Rather, it was my new friends who bore the brunt of this brutality. I didn't tell my ex-husband off for cheating on me, among other things, as I should have. Instead, I took all this aggression out on a couple of guys from an entirely different world than my own, every single time they reached out to help me. I bit their heads (and hands) clean off every time, repeatedly, for many many many (many many many many) days in a row. I picked their guts out of my teeth with zest (metaphorically), I ingested their pain like candy. It was bad, so very very bad. But the cool thing is (uh, for lack of a better expression), they didn't abandon me like almost everyone else has (or so I feel as I write this... whine whine whine). In fact, they not only stuck around and helped me get better (in rather unorthodox ways, admittedly), they put all of this angst to good use in their own way. I am learning about friendship that lasts. I am learning about true, unconditional love. It's sort of like being nourished by the blood dripping down from the bite marks I made, vampire metaphors notwithstanding. Whatever the recipe of the elixir that has caused me to get better, the main ingredient has been unconditional love from strangers who are at least as strange as me if not much more so. Now that is something to think about, isn't it? 

So, all is not lost. I am still looking ahead to a better day, a day when the old stories fall away and this family of mine, cursed as it may be, also learns what it means to love unconditionally. I hope they do. Either way, thanks to my friends, who sort of bashed down the door to rescue me (for umm lack of a better expression), I feel like I have immeasurable value, evidenced by their determination to not let me go, though holding on was about as much fun as poking yourself with needles or something equally horrid. It's amazing to encounter such an old-fashioned concept in a world hell-bent on chasing the future down. That concept is basic humanity, the kind where you face up to mistakes, apologize, try again. It's the concept of hanging on because it is understood that every single life, including mine, is precious. 

It took old-fashioned love to remind me of that. I love old-fashioned things. 

This blog is a place for me to clear my head and I view it as I would a chat on a telephone. It is an open (and admittedly a very one-sided) discussion I am having with myself today. I know I have an attitude problem at times (since I was born), but the sloughing off of personal angst aside, this family embarrassment (me) would like to announce I have published my first book, dedicated to my children. I even used my ex-husband's last name so he will be forever immortalized as the father of my children. We should be able to celebrate a milestone like this, but I am here alone, standing at the finish line, wondering where the heck everyone else is. Oh well.  If there is any good in me, its because being their mother taught me the value of many many things, including unconditional love which is the kind of love I have for them. So this book is a representation of the part of my life that provided me with the privilege to be their mother, a priceless gift to me of immeasurable value, always. I titled it Birth Art by Jody N. Coughlin; An Artist's Journey Through Cesarean Birth. It is available through Amazon. Here <<-- is the link.