One perspective of my life is that it’s been a very difficult journey. I’ve written and spoken ad nauseam about spousal abuse, the challenges of single parenting, living near poverty, and other whoa-is-me moments.
With the recent relentless surge of random memories bubbling up (most of them not good ones) I’ve painfully relived these moments in the middle of the night, standing in line in the grocery store, or even while trying to escape by immersing myself in predictable Hallmark movies.
Another slap in the face from the past hit me while making my morning coffee. “You did it to yourself!” said the cold, gruff, emotionless voice of my husband from the past. A memory flashed across my mind. I could see his face and I could feel the bruise on my cheek from his hand. This was his explanation every time he hurt me. He told me that I did it to myself.
I put the coffee pod in the machine and pushed the start button. “I did it to myself. I did it to myself,” I said slowly, as the words slowly started to sink in. For some reason, this time it made sense. He was right! I did it to myself! Not literally, of course. But, I did it to myself through my decision to be with him, to marry him despite all of the warning signs that I shouldn’t.
I flashed back to another memory. I was on the phone with the radio talk show Psychologist, Dr. David Viscott, back in the early 80s. I wanted to talk about my first husband who was terribly violent towards me. I was hoping for a sympathetic “you poor little thing” response, expecting to be the gently coddled victim. Instead Dr. Viscott said, “You knew the guy was a jerk from the moment you laid eyes on him. Say it!” he demanded. My heart sank, but I complied and said the words. “I knew the guy was a jerk from the moment I laid eyes on him.” As I did, I knew Dr. Viscott was right. I did know it, and chose to ignore what I felt. I didn’t trust my intuition (or the visible signs), and instead gave my first husband the benefit of the doubt. I was immediately disconnected from the phone call, and sat shivering and stunned by the seeming insensitivity with which I had been treated.
Now, nearly 45 years later, standing in my kitchen as the last drips of coffee dropped into my cup, I finally got it. No matter what had happened to me in my life, good or bad, I did it to myself through my choices and perceptions.
In an unexpected twist, the fog of victimhood lifted, and I began to see my life with new eyes. What a fascinating journey I’ve had. I started to think about my ex-husbands, not with distain, but I thought about all of the wonderful times we had together, and the reasons why I married them in the first place. I certainly never set out to marry people who would hurt me. My first husband was incredibly handsome, a remarkable drummer, a fantastic conversationalist, extremely funny, and a heckuva great dancer. My second husband was also very handsome, hilarious, happy-go-lucky, and an adventurous spirit who helped me build confidence and taught me how to play again, and was father of my first beautiful daughter. My third husband had a brilliant mind, was extremely creative, encouraged me in my channeling, and had a deep love of nature, and was father of my second beautiful daughter. My fourth husband was a great teacher to me, made me feel safe, and it didn’t hurt that he was a great foot reflexologist.
With this healing awareness, even more wonderful memories came flooding in. Amazing memories, such as dancing with Lawrence Welk on The Lawrence Welk Show when I turned 10 years old (photo above); meeting Dick Clark and dancing on American Bandstand; working for Goodson-Todman Productions on the game show Super Password; listening to the great Indian musician, Ravi Shankar, play the sitar in our living room; listening to Brian Wilson (of The Beach Boys) spontaneously playing piano in our recording studio, two trips to Europe, a trip to Hawaii, two trips across country, a visit to Quebec, hundreds of hikes in Sedona, swimming in the ocean and seeing an octopus. The hugs, kisses, and life lessons from Mom and Dad. My wonderful, funny, smart and talented big brother. A most eclectic group of fun, talented, silly and smart best friends. Great food and drink. The most loving and encouraging clients galore. Daughters. Grandchildren. Beloved dogs and cats. A mouse named George.
I held my hot cup of coffee in my hands, inhaled the aroma, and took that first glorious sip, as more and more joyful memories danced across my mind. My eyes welled with tears, and I said to the memory of my ex-husband, “Yup. You’re right. I did it to myself. And, I’d do it all again.”
No regrets.
