Divine secrets of the single-motherhood

Every marriage is different.  What makes it work, what makes it fail; each marriage has it's own triggers for failure and catalysts for succes.  The thought that I could get into a healthy marriage and destroy it is laughable.  The supposition that I WOULD get into any marriage with the intent to destroy it is ludicrous.

I'm a divorced woman that lived in an unhappy, unhealthy marriage for five long years.  I struggled to discover the paths available to me and clawed my way onto my current path constantly second-guessing myself and wondering if I was doing the right thing.  Every decision I've made has been for the betterment of my son.  Every.  Single.  One.  It was, and still is, incredibly hard because there is no manual.

This is not a life that I would wish on anyone.  Single motherhood is no joke.  It isn't easy.  It isn't for the weak of heart, and it isn't for everyone.

I've been accused many times of wanting my friends to be divorced, too.  Of actively trying to destroy a marriage in the hopes of having a single playmate.  You know, the whole misery loves company theory.  I typically don't give the accusation much thought or care because they're coming from power-hungry husbands that have lost control of their wives.  Although it won't be the last, this last accusation hurt because it meant the possible loss of a friendship that would feel an awful lot like losing family.

Quite possibly, I need to repeat myself.  This is not a life I would wish on anyone.  This is not a singles playground where we run around having boat loads of fun like we're starring in some sort of tampon commercial.  There is no divine secrets of the single-motherhood club where we have time for our misery to commiserate.  This is constant work and worry from the minute you wake up to long after you go to sleep.  More often than not, sleep is fleeting when you factor in a growing business, exercise, sickness, nightmares, leg cramps, allergies, and a geriatric dog.  There is no passing off any chore, at all, when you have too much on your plate or are exhausted or have hit your limit.  You hit your limit often.  You don't believe when people tell you you're doing a good job, and everyone feels they have the right to tell you when you mess up.  And you mess up a lot.

My struggles over the past several years have taught me many things.  I've learned that I'm stronger than I ever considered possible.  I've learned that life rarely turns out the way you expect.  I've learned that I have it way better than most single moms out there.  I've also learned that every person has to find their own way to discovering their perfect path.  There is only one person on earth whom I have the right and the obligation to correct or direct.  That is my son.  The rest of you have the absolute right to screw up, and I have the right to support you and care for you with no judgements, reprimands, or corrections.  It is not my job to tell you you're wrong, and it is not your job to expect me to.

To all of the husbands that think I'm trying to sink their marriage: bite me.  There are only two people that can sink your marriage.  You and your spouse.  If you've built a foundation of love based on mutual trust, respect, consideration, and partnership, then there's nothing or no one that can break your house.  You wanna blame someone?  Look in the mirror.  Leave me out of it.

My body thinks I am trying to kill it

A few months ago, I realized that I have feelings for a man that may or may not have feelings about me.  That's another story that you can read here: Dear Guy That's Not Into Me  The reason I brought this up is that I finally got off my keister (literally) and started exercising.

Yes, I realize that is a bad word in my world (exercise, not keister), but I was tired of hating the way I felt when I put my clothes on in the morning and hating what I saw in photos.  I want to be able to play with my son as he grows without either of us being embarrassed by my performance.  I also want to be seen as date-able.  If I didn't like what I saw in the mirror, then how could I expect someone else to like me?  Both inside and out.

I used to say that if you saw me running you better run, too, because something was chasing me.  I have come to the conclusion that my demons are the what is actually chasing me.  No, not literal demons, but the demons of decisions past that come out to play when I have too much time to think.  I put on a combination of Eminem's and Pitbull's new albums, and I go.

Many, many months ago, I stole my parents' treadmill and put it in my garage.  I started out walking slowly and slowly increased my pace the longer I did it.  I have a couple of friends that had already made the choice to be healthier, and they both lost significant amounts of weight.  The right way.  And it showed.  They inspired me to get up off my ass, stop putting things in my mouth, and get moving.

I used a combination of the My Fitness Pal app to track my calories and my competitive spirit to combine diet and exercise, and it worked.  Almost 30 pounds lighter, I'm now up to running anywhere from 1/2 to 1 1/2 miles with a full 5K workout several times a week.  Planking and burpees have helped my core, my breathing, and my strength.  I've signed up for a 5K race at the end of February, and I'm scared to death.

My breathing still stinks, and I'm afraid that I'll get out there and pass out.  Or throw up in front of a hot guy.  Or have to walk most of it.  Before the panic sets too far in, I remind myself that I'm doing it.  Period.  I'm out there, and I'm trying, and that counts for quite a lot.

I'm also back into my pre-pregnancy clothes that I haven't been able to wear in five years.  I feel great.  I look great.  Maybe I'm ready to be great.