Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...

Dancing in the Rain
(Image, Vogue UK)

"Life isn't about waiting for the Storm to pass,

It's about learning to Dance in the Rain."

This first became my motto years ago when I began my long, arduous journey toward divorce. I would repeat it to myself over and over again. These words gave me strength and courage. These words gave me hope and determination. They reminded me to persevere with grace and dignity; and to keep the fire burning within me. 

My divorce nearly destroyed me. I had to constantly remind myself that I was merely traveling through one of life’s many storms and like those that had swept through before I knew that it too would pass. It was then that I learned to focus on the then and now, not worry about tomorrow as I was brought up to do. I learned to live in the present and to focus on the present -- the future was too scary, mysterious, daunting. In so doing, I learned to focus on the small things that mattered. A small daisy popping through the sidewalk cracks amongst the weeds... the ebb and flow of the tide at the end of the day and the sounds that accompanied it, the crashing of the waves on the sand, the gentle whistle of the soft breezes, the songs of the seagulls. These were the things that put a smile on my face, that kept me calm when everything else roiled around me violently. 

I would learn a lot over the next couple of years. I would experience the most trying of days, and my inner and mental strength and determination would be tested in ways they had never been before. I would learn that when I thought I had hit rock bottom, that bottom could indeed keep falling out below me, over and over again. I would learn that when I thought I could take no more, I could. I would learn that I was stronger I ever imagined I could be. I would learn that positive thinking is the most powerful tool one can possess. I would learn how to smile through the tears, put on a happy face and keep moving forward no matter how the strong the forces were that were trying to pull me back.

I've always been more of the impulsive type and less the research the heck out of it type. While my divorce was by no means an impulsive decision, I certainly knew nothing about it. I had no divorced friends or family members. I thought we'd work a few things out on paper, go to court and, voilá, we'd be done. I thought we could actually remain friends. Boy was I wrong. I was about to endure two of the most difficult years of my life. I would have to overcome obstacles like never before. I would have to be strong like I never had to before. 

Like so many others I assumed that when the divorce was finalized my life would return to some sort of normalcy. (I thought it might actually get easy!) I imagined that all would be smooth sailing from that point on as I had successfully leaped over the tallest hurdle and landed firmly on two strong feet. I know now that there’s no such thing as normal. The storms  continue to come — they vary in severity and duration, but they are inevitable. I can handle them now, for I have mastered the art of dancing in the rain.  

My life has taken many unforeseen turns. There were unexpected forks in the road which brought me down obscure paths with unfamiliar landscapes. Perhaps this detour was part of the plan all along and for some reason Fate felt the need to step in to redirect me. I know I needed redirecting. I'm reminded of a saying - Wrong turns can lead you down the right path - and I do believe it's true. You might need to check out several paths, as I have had to do, but I sincerely believe that I am now headed in the right direction. 

It might surprise many to learn that things have never come easily to me. Some people are by definition of the word lucky. I am not one of those people. This is not to say that I am unlucky, though I have had my challenges. There have been days when I struggle to see the good around me. There have been days when I have had to keep fighting for myself and my children. I am not a fighter - I don’t want to fight.

I am now 6 years divorced. 

And I never imagined that my life would be as challenging as it is has been. I was sure I would have the golden career, that my kids would be happy and healthy and over-programmed as all the other children are in my community and I would be riding off into the sunset with my Prince on his white horse.  None of that is my life. And that's ok. But it wasn't always.

I have made peace with the fact that my life didn't exactly turn out as I had envisioned, but does anyone's? Comparison is indeed the thief of joy. I try so hard not to compare my life and myself to those around me. Our circumstances are not alike, so why should our lifestyles be? No one is perfect. No one's life is perfect. We all have our own struggles and obstacles. I'm ok with mine. I have accepted my life, my struggles, my obstacles. They have given me clarity and purpose. They have made me more determined, have helped me to focus, persevere and be grateful.  

I turned 50 last year. I have decided that in this second decade I would do things my way and not worry about what others expect or think of me. I intend to live this next half with joy and with purpose. If I can't find the joy, I will make it. I will live on my terms. I spent the first 40 years trying to please others which got me nowhere. Pleasing myself on the other hand has and will.

I've always been a bit of a late bloomer. I was late learning to walk, and I've always been the last to figure things out. I've made peace with the fact that I'll never be a young success story. I let my own self-doubt and fear prevent me from doing so.

When we are younger we seek approval, recognition and yearn to fit in with the mold that society deems as normal. We want to be like everyone else. As we get older we learn to recognize the the beauty and importance of being unique, yet we still want approval from those around us. At a certain point in our lives we decide that it's ok to do what we want without the approval of others. We learn that it's OK not to always fit in, to march to the beat of our own drums. Most importantly we recognize the fact that not everyone has to like us or like what we're doing.  I came to this realization in my mid forties, and by fifty I had learn to say "fuck it." It's not important what others think of me or what I'm doing. It only matters to me. Of course, my children do matter, but they don't need to approve of everything I do. Like me or leave me. It's such a refreshing thing to say. 

With all that said I am still trying to be the best that I can be.  While I started my own small company a couple of years ago, I do not have a golden career - nor do I particularly care to at this age. I am living paycheck to paycheck, and that is something I am trying desperately to change. I am trying to be present for my children, but this is often complicated by the fact that I am trying to get this small business off the ground, compounded by the fact that my children, now teenagers don't always want me present or around! 

I am trying to set them free with a set of skills and basic knowledge that they can carry with them through life. I am trying to be a good mother. (I often feel as though I have failed here - and this is perhaps the one area where I constantly beat myself up.) I am trying to set the ground rules. I am trying to shield them from harm. I am trying to expose them to reality so that they are somewhat prepared when they step out on their own. I am trying to keep it together, but sometimes it’s important they see me fall apart. 

I am hoping that my divorce teaches them valuable life-long lessons:

You have to work (hard) for what you want.
You can't take anything for granted.
You need to swallow your pride, often.
You are not entitled. Ever.
Life is challenging.
Life is also rewarding.
The challenges make the rewards even sweeter.
Caring and compassion are important.
As is respect.
As is caring.
As is health.
As is exercise.

Most importantly I hope they learn that you can't quit. Ever.

I have a lifelong habit of quitting when the going gets rough. I have a long habit of saying "I can't." I should have, instead, learned to ask for help. I still struggle with the latter. It doesn't come easily to me at all. But I no longer quit. I no longer say I can't. Because, if there's one thing that my divorce taught me it is that I can. I did so by learning to dance in the rain. I learned to embrace the struggle and make it part of the dance.