LEAVING MY MARRIAGE OF 23 YEARS

By Patricia Boswell, MA NCC  (Originally Published March 13, 2012)

Last night I watched, for the bazilunth time, the movie Under the Tuscan Sun. The movie was based on the 1996 memoir of writer Frances Mayes. Knowing a woman lived this courageous story made me love the movie even more. You see, when the movie came out in 2003, I was preparing to leave my marriage of 23 years. In 2004 we separated and I spent many Friday nights on my couch with a bottle of red wine, steamed shrimp, homemade hot sauce, a chocolate eclair and this movie. Watching the heroine’s perseverance to claim her life offered me hope for a life I didn’t yet have as I let go of a life I no longer wanted. I needed hope. I needed courage.

Courage is a tricky thing. Elusive. Often disguised. Seldom easy. I never feel courageous in the midst of an act of courage. Usually it is others that say, “You are so brave.” My courage mimics stupidity. It whispers, “What was I thinking? Am I crazy? You actually think you can do this…and survive?”

In 2004 I was working part time. I had been working part time since my son was born in 1986. This was a decision my husband and I made. I left my agency job as a supervisor and began a private psychotherapy practice. This allowed me the freedom to be home if one of the kids got sick, be a chaperone on school trips and still be a professional. It worked…mostly. Money was always tight.

So, in some ways my decision to leave my marriage did seem like “not such a bright idea.” If we could barely make it together financially, how would I do it alone? (Truth be told that question probably kept me in the marriage several extra years).  I still knew I HAD TO leave. Was it courage or stupidity? I didn’t know.

I did, however, know what I wanted . . .

I wanted a relationship with a man that was “my match.” (I wrote this request, in permanent marker, on my pillow and slept on it for 3 years) . . .

I wanted to live in Pittsburgh (I know this sounds odd, the sun rarely shines, the pot holes consume small cars, and people put chairs out on the street to save their parking place, but it is a friendly, vibrant, small city that I felt at home in).

I wanted a full-time psychotherapy practice.

I wanted to travel … often.

In the movie there is a story about train tracks being built between Austria and Italy in a section of the Alps called the Semmering. It is apparently an impossibly steep section of the mountains. The people of the area built these tracks before there was a train in existence that could make the trip. They built it because they knew someday the train would come.

So, is it courage or stupidity to risk it all for something that does not yet exist? Does one jump in, not sure you can swim, and struggle toward the thing you hope for? Or, does one ignore the inner urge to jump and sit back down?

I think it is courage and stupidity that moves us. While I was in the transition of ending a marriage, floundering, I felt stupid. That voice, those questions had some good points, “You actually think you can do this…and survive?” I jumped in anyway, willing to drown trying. I preferred that over dying in the marriage.

I didn’t drown. I inhaled a lot of water, called for help often and had to be resuscitated a few times, but I made it to the other shore. Here I am…living in Pittsburgh; remarried, last summer, to “my match”; traveling someplace wonderful every year; a successful, full time private practice and both of my kids-who I thought would hate me and never leave the area they grew up in-live in Pittsburgh.

Looking back, living the life I hoped for, I say, “I was courageous.”

Hind sight supports courage.

So does tolerating feeling stupid.

Contact the Author:

Patricia Boswell, MA, NCC

Licensed Professional Counselor

Collaborative Divorce Coach

patriciaboswell.com

Facebook:  Patricia Boswell

Facebook group: “My Second Marriage Was To Myself”

Phone number (412) 441-1177

Dress for The Job That You Want…

By Mary Grace Musuneggi
Founder & Executive Director, Single Steps Strategies

As the world becomes more casual, dressing down has become more the code in the work world. The “uniform” of the office is now more likely to be slacks and t-shirts than skirts, jackets and high heels.

But the old adage of “you are what you wear” may still have some value in today’s causal world.

“You are what you wear” asks us to think about what we project to the world, what we think about who we are, and what we want from our professional lives.

When I was young and things were not quite going my way, when I was upset by circumstances or dealing with a difficult life issue, my mother would remind me that all things were possible if I just “got up, got dressed up, and got going.” The actions of moving and doing were a means of working through a problem and heading for a new life experience. But the central part of this theme was that I “got dressed up.” Not just dressed. Dressed up. Getting dressed up ensured I was putting my best foot forward and feeling good about who I was.

Just like the UPS driver and the McDonald’s employee, I have a “uniform” when I get up every day and go off to my work life. I believe that what I wear sets the tone for what I expect from myself, what I expect from my business, and what I expect from my day.

One of my mentors in my early career said more people would become who they wanted to be if they just “dressed for the job they want, and not the job they have.” Work at and look like who you want to be. Shakespeare wrote, “all the world is a stage and each must play a part.” What is the costume you should be wearing for the part you are playing?

In her book Simple Abundance, Sarah Ban Breathnach tells us “most of us do not think we are carrying on a conversation with the outside world when we get dressed in the morning, but we are.”  She also reminds us that Alison Laurie, author of The Language of Clothes, says, “long before I am near enough to talk to you…you convey your sex, age, class to me through what you are wearing. To choose clothes, either in a store or at home, is to define and describe ourselves.”

As we enter a new season, now is the perfect time to re-evaluate our wardrobe—the “uniform” we wear when we go out into the world. What are you saying to the world? What do you really what the world to hear?

The Purple Boot

By Carole Kunkle-Miller, Ph.D

I love skiing. For five years, I owned a purple ski boots that were very stylish. They matched my purple skis, my ski jacket, and my hat. I looked great–the only problem was the boot never fit quite right. It pinched in one part, so I tried everything to make it fit. I adjusted the buckles, had extra padding put in, and bought a heated liner to change the inside shape of the boot; the ski shop stretched the outside of the boot; I tried thin socks, thick socks.

Regardless of how hard I tried, my feet would be in extreme pain at the end of every run. Finally, I gave in and bought a new pair of boots. And guess what? I had no pain, no pinching, and I could ski better. But what amazed me was why I had put up with those purple boots that were not right for me. As I looked at it, I had paid good money for the boots and they matched everything. They were supposed to be a good brand and I went through a lot of work to attempt to make them fit.

How often do we experience this same dynamic in our relationships? We put up with a friend or a lover who clearly hurts us and is not right for us. Why? Because we have invested so much; because we are sure we can make it work.

Most people say, “ I think I can make him/her change.” That is the biggest error any of us can make–thinking we can create or force change in others. We really only have control over our own thoughts and behaviors. If we are clear about what we want and continually clarify and refine what makes our hearts sing, we will experience a good fit between what we want and what we eventually have. We can make relationships work well for us if we don’t “put up” with relationships that will never be a good fit, no matter how hard we try.  Once we learn to love ourselves, making the choices that serve us best is so much easier.   

Dr. Carole Kunkle-Miller is a psychologist, health coach and collaborative divorce coach with over 35 years of experience in the human effectiveness field. She directs Carole Kunkle-Miller, PhD and Associates, a group of psychologists and social workers with many years of experience and education. Connect with Carole at her website, www.drckm.com.