.SOMETIMES RAW.

My birthday is around the corner. I am approaching 39 which means the big 4-0 is just around the corner, too. This also means, that I am no spring chicken but I am not an old lady either. I can party like a twenty-year-old but it then takes me a couple of days to recover. Sometimes I am a tired mother taking my son to the park, and other times I am a petulant teenager giving the finger to Frank the FedEx guy who didn’t bring me that package I ordered ten weeks ago. I idle right in the middle without knowing when middle age actually starts. According to the dictionary, middle-age is “the period of life between young adulthood and old age, now usually regarded as between about forty-five and sixty.” SIXTY? Nice try, Oxford.

I personally think middle age begins once you start looking forward to eating dinner before 6.30 p.m., or when you call the cops when your next-door neighbor has a party. I know my body feels older even though I feel I am in shape and practice Yoga on a daily basis. Sometimes certain parts hurt that usually didn’t. However, I would never let this social pressure of “staying young forever” get to me.

I can either exhaust myself thrashing against it or turn around and let the pressure of it massage out my kinks. Fighting aging is like the War on Drugs. It’s expensive, does more harm than good, and has proven to never end.

Hopefully, I have another fifty years of healthy living ahead of me before I pass from this earth either in my sleep (preferred) or during a daring rescue caught on tape the paramedics recorded. Ideally, my penultimate day would be spent attending a giant beach party thrown in my honor. Everyone would gather around me at sunset, and the golden light would make everything look awesome as I told hilarious stories and gave away my book collection to my friends. I and all my still-alive friends (which, let’s face it, will mostly be women) would sing and dance late into the night. My son would be strong, grown, handsome, and happy. I would be frail but adorable. Once the party ended, everyone would fall asleep except for me, my son, and my partner. We would spend the rest of the night watching the stars under a nice blanket my granddaughter made.

As the sun began to rise, my partner would wake and put the coffee on. My son would still be asleep. My partner’s last words would be something banal and beautiful. “Are you warm enough, my love? I want to tell you a story.” he would ask and say while handing me another blanket. “Just right, okay, tell me a story,” I would answer while feeling content.

My funeral would be incredibly intimate. I would instruct people to throw firecrackers and play Pink Floyd songs on a loop.

Did I freak you out? It wasn’t until I turned thirty-two and my son was born that I started to feel like my adult life was beginning. This was around the time when I knew how to jump-start my own car battery. I had spent so much of my twenties in a state of delayed adolescence and so much of my teenage years wishing that time would move faster. At thirty, I felt like I had about six or seven years of feeling like a real adult before my brain, and society tried starting to make me worry about being old. There is the built-in baby stuff, plus the added fascination with the new. But here is the thing. Getting older is awesome, and not because I don’t care as much about what people think. It’s awesome because I develop a secret superpower. My son would love to read all about it.

The superpower: Getting older makes me somewhat different or being able to adapt to things more easily. This can be exciting. Now that I am better at observing a situation, I can use my sharpened skills to scan a room and navigate it before anyone even notices that I am there. This can lead to me finding a comfortable couch at a party, or to the realization that I am at a terrible party and need to leave immediately. I can witness young people embarrassing themselves and get a thrill that it is not me. I can watch and listen to them throw around their “alwayses” and “nevers” and “I am the kind of person who would never….” and delight in the fact that I am past that point in my life. Feeling different means I can float.

Getting older also helps me develop an x-ray vision. I am now able to see through people more. I get better at understanding what people mean and how it can be different from what they say. Finally, the phrase “actions speak louder than words” starts to make sense. I can read people’s energies better, and this means I get stuck less talking to idiots. Gone are the days when I take things personally and internalize everyone’s behavior. I get better at knowing what I want and need.

Lastly, because I am a superhero, I am really good at putting together a good team. I can look around the room and notice the other superhero because they are the ones noticing me. Some friends I meet are highly emulsified and full of awesomeness. Now that I have a sense of who I am, I know better what kind of friend(s) or partner(s) I want and need. I am interested in people who swim in the deep end. I want to have conversations about real things with people who have experienced real things. I am tired of talking about movies and gossiping about friends. Life is crunchy and complicated and I am more about all the deliciousness instead.

Hey…. Can you walk and breathe? Yes!? Then stop complaining.

“We may lose and we may win though we will never be here again.” – Eagels, Take it Easy

I am divorced and this is not a secret. I understand why people read so many articles and books on divorce because every second marriage is falling apart. Divorces are so common and nothing really special. When I was going through my divorce, I felt alone even though I had support through family and friends. Nobody felt the specific ways of pain I was in. Imagine spreading everything you care about on a blanket and then tossing the whole thing up in the air. The seemingly never-ending process of divorce is about loading up that blanket, throwing it up, watching it all spin, and worrying that stuff will break when it lands. Of course, it broke. And of course, I wanted to find answers and comfort.

I don’t want to talk about too many details of my divorce because it is too sad and too personal. I also don’t like people to know all my shit but only the bits and pieces I want to share. That being said, divorce really sucks. But, divorce is also good news, because no good marriage has ever ended in divorce.

Any painful experience made me see things and life differently. It also reminded me of the simple truths that I purposely forget every day or else I would never get out of bed. Things such as nothing lasts forever and relationships can end. The best that can happen is that I learned a little more about what I am able to handle and how I can stay soft through the pain. I feel a little wiser and hopefully won’t make the same mistakes again. And, maybe my experience can be of help to others. I thought about something fun. Imaginary books that may have helped me deal with my divorce a bit better. Here are some fun titles and a short summary of some divorce books I may possibly write in the future. Or not. I would rather not.

I F***ING WANT A DIVORCE!!!!!!! LIKE RIGHT NOW!

Summary: If you have a small child you will understand this book. It deals with the fact that most people who divorce with small children still need to see each other every day. Any good parent will try to put their children’s needs first. This book will help teach you how to deal with a hardcore verbal fight and still attend a kid’s birthday party in person and not to just send a sad gift through Amazon. How lame. Are you in your early twenties and recently broke up with someone via WhatsApp? This book is not for you. Have you heard that your ex is re-building a run-down hotel and you rolled your eyes at how stupid this idea is? This book is not for you. This book is for the people who choose to work together and co-parent or at least show some interest.

Possible chapters to include: Fake smiling. How important is it to have the last word? Stop buying so many toys because material things won’t buy real love. Ever!

GET OVER IT! BUT NOT TOO FAST!

Summary: When you are going through the trauma and drama of divorce, you will learn who your real friends are. They guide you and take care of you and save you from your darkest days. This book is here to remind you that even though you are in pain and still in transition, everyone else has moved on and is a little tired of your situation. This book will remind you that unless the juicy fight continues or your ex-spouse actually ends up staying with his new girlfriend, most people don’t want to talk about it anymore. This book will teach you how to move on, but not too fast. Be upset, but please keep it together. Don’t end up in a mental institution just yet.

Possible chapters to included: She doesn’t cry enough. Why is he reporting me to the Immigration Office? He seems like a psycho to me. I am sorry to interrupt, but when do you think you will get over your anger/pride/attitude, take aside what we both went through and show some interest in your child(ren)?

DIVORCE: OR TEN WAYS TO NOT CATCH IT!

Summary: Divorce is contagious! It is like cancer but worse because no one feels really that bad for you. This book will teach you how to discuss your divorce with your currently still married friends. I mean those friends who have the perfect marriage and will never ever get a divorce. This book will help you not to strangle them when they both stand in front of you and talk about how great their relationship continues to be. This book will point to ways you can talk about your divorce without feeling like it is a real, fancy fur coat that people like to try on but then throw back at you in disgust because they would never wear something like that. They prefer only fake fur.

Possible chapters to include: [Illustrations of happy couples looking at you with pity] Divorce is not an option for me, but I am really happy for you. C’mon who hasn’t cheated? I just couldn’t do that to my kid(s)! We choose to stay together because of our kid(s).

HEY, LADY! THANK YOU FOR FUCKING MY HUSBAND! ARE YOU HAPPY WITH YOUR CHOICE? TELL ME IF YOU ARE STILL HAPPY WITH HIM AND HIS CRAZY IDEAS AFTER ONE YEAR! [This could possibly be a New York Times Bestseller]

Summary: Newly divorced and attending a wedding for the first time alone? This is the book for you. Inside you will find ways to deal with the strange stares and drunk accusations that come along with not having a date. You will find a lot of tips on how to gently break it to women that you don’t want to f*** their husbands. You will find more tips to not get involved in other people’s weird relationship shit. You will read about the experiences of other men and women who bravely attended events and came out alive. Check out the special section on what to do and say when your ex shows up at the same event. With or without his new girlfriend. Extra bonus chapter: This book will help you navigate through all the details that people want to know, such as, how you broke up, where he is living now, what exactly happened, and who wanted it more, and what is going on with the kid(s), and how you told the kids, and if it was sad. Also, if he is mad and if you are sad, if everybody else knows, and who we can tell.

Possible chapters to include: No one is as great, wonderful and full of himself as you, Mr. Ex! It is not hard to be at a wedding withouth a Plus-1. I have never looked better. I am so glad he is not in my life anymore.

GUYS (AND PEOPLE) TO AVOID AND THAT YOUR MOTHER WARNED YOU ABOUT!

This book just contains a list of assholes, a picture, a short description, and why you should avoid them.

Maybe this will help you. Maybe it will make you laugh. Maybe it will help you navigate through a shitty time. Someday, happy couples won’t make you feel sad anymore. Someday you may be in a relationship again. Someday you will wake up and feel happy and slowly but surely like yourself again. Forget the facts and remember the feelings. The future is now.

I walked past one of my favorite coffee shops the other day. It just reopened the other day and has been closed since March 14th. I could barely recall what it was like to go there. I used to grab a coffee on my way to work. If I ever missed a morning, the shape of the day was incomplete. And here it’s been two months without it. I tried really hard to remember what it was like going there and then experiencing the simultaneous thrill of being dressed to go to work and the anticipatory buzz of imminent caffeination, and, for some reason, I even recalled this one memory of sitting in the back of the shop, writing and reading.

While thinking about this, I experienced a new sensation where suddenly, life BC (before corona) was not a memory the same way all the other ones were. It was a different entity. Almost like someone else had lived it. There was no through-line, stringing past experiences together with current reality, weaving it into the sweater called Me. Have you felt this way at all? Now that I think about it, I bet this, the finite separation of time: before calamity/after calamity, is the way a lot of people feel after they have encountered a significant bout of isolation and loss of “things”. For me, I am able to recognize who I was before this loss and I am still connected to who I am now. Things have changed but it is all good. #f***thatfacemaskthough

But the reason any of this is noteworthy at all is because I am not grieving or suffering. At least I don’t think I am. Am I? Do I really miss movie theaters? I have known for at least the last four weeks to throw the term “back to” away when discussing the topic of “normal”. There will be no going back. Only toward, forward, to something ….. I guess, New? Different? I am not really sure. Maybe this sudden red-sea-split of time is necessary, I thought while doing my daily Power Yoga Hour at home trying to gaze at my navel in Downward-Facing-Dog. What I am trying to say here is that I liked how a lot of things were in my life; my life before the pandemic. I would not mind going “back to,” instead of “toward.” Not all of it, but some of it. One thing I know for sure though: I won’t stand in line in front of any store to patiently wait to clothes-shop. Because I like to stop and think and sit still and discard the excess that I owned which Corona made me realize again.

But you know what? I have been doing all that while still missing some things in my life. And keeping this in mind, I am good. We are good. I am tired of excavating even though it served me well for a while. At least I am harvesting what is good, thinking less about the things I want to change, the things I look forward to change, and more about the things I had and knew and liked before the lockdown. Like, for example, work: colleagues, friends, the “team” – all of it. This world I get to have that is mine and independent of my “family duties”. It adds dimension and perspective and endurance to the relationships between these walls I call my lovely home. It also adds a bit of a thrill. The extent to which I used to look forward to Friday/Saturday nights to go out for dinner. Damn, we had it good.

No, still have it good. We went to the recently re-opened Zoo in Vienna last weekend. While my son played, I sat on a bench and watched someone’s child collect branches and then rub them against the soil, cleverly turning a stick into a pen to write in the dirt which reminded me of a Kurt Vonnegut quote I find myself coming back to every time simple pleasures trump complicated thoughts: “If this, the stand-alone satisfaction of sitting on the grass with my kids, isn’t nice, what is?“

Time is different now. And maybe I am grieving how it was before because I know it won’t be the same. It can’t be. Even if I tried to restore the past, it is not only too far removed from the present, but it is also too foreign a concept. Talking about time, after ten weeks of quarantine, there have been quite some changes in my head. A minute used to be sixty seconds long. My “After-Corona”- brain thinks this could be spiced up a bit. A minute can now either be one hour or two seconds. A day used to be 24 hours. Remember that? Now it seems like the day is over as soon as I first ask myself, “What time is it?” Do you know this feeling when it is still ten in the morning and you are on your phone and suddenly it is eight at night? The weekend is almost over but it actually didn’t exist anymore for the past ten weeks. I might have found myself going to bed on Friday and I would wake up on Monday with a vague memory that I might have watched all seasons and episodes of “Workin’ Moms”.

Lastly, let’s mention a month. Months used to be pretty inconsistent. Some months were 28, 29, 30, or even 31 days. This seems all too confusing, so now every month is four days long. This way we will all get to the end of a month and think: Wow, that felt like it was only four days, which used to be one day of a week, but is now just 1/90th of a week because a week is a year and a month is four days.

Hysterical but life is so weird sometimes. And with this in mind, everything will be alright after all.