New Kid on the Block

Our engagement period was a short one before I chose to move my shoes, my dogs, and my life to Mi Hombre’s city. As much as I dreaded giving up my house with it’s Zen garden, it was the only way our relationship could work. Super-girl could not be relocated like a prized piece of furniture although; the thought had crossed my mind. I sadly boxed up my things, said goodbye to life as I once new it, and moved an hour south to a fresh and upcoming little city.

Yep, I was the new kid on the block. His tiny house was cute in a craftsman’s sort of way. It was completely urban central and located in the middle of a quaint little art district. At first, I thought that trading in my country escape for city central may not be so bad. There was no longer a need for delivery-you can walk, when you can’t sleep there is usually a local band playing on the corner or a show at the neighborhood theater. Gallery hops bring fresh faces, the pubs bring comical wandering drunks, and the transitioning of the area always houses its fair share of displaced hobos. I know all of this paints a wonderful and hip new beginning…great locale, good food, gallery hops, and of course new shoe stores…and it was…short lived.

With my announcement to the neighbourhood came the Welcome Wagon. Not the flower basket and apple pie that one may traditionally hope for, this Welcome Wagon consisted of the ex wife, the ex friends and the many remnants of the ex life. I felt like a display item, a circus show freak, like a complete outsider. As I explored the neighborhood shops and boutiques it was like everyone knew who I was before I ever had a chance to introduce myself. It never failed that everywhere I went I either ran into the ex or her friends surrounded me. It was strange, unsettling and very foreign to me. The stares, the insincere hand shakes, the silence, the gossip, it all felt very much like I had walked into the movie set of “Mean Girls.” I was in her territory, on her block and she wanted me to know it.

Well, I heard it loud and clear, and when the poisonous arrows began to fly from the little green house around the corner it was time that Mi Hombre and I listed the house for sale. You see it isn’t that we don’t enjoy a challenge-we have plenty. It is not like we were bowing down and being bullied out of the neighborhood, because she isn’t that powerful. It is because we both have a low threshold for toxicity, and toxic was what it was becoming. The frequent boundary violations, the incessant calls, the inappropriate emails, the unwelcome visits had me at my whit’s-end and Mi Hombre summoning the ex back into mediation. We want a happy and healthy future for our remarriage. This includes a sanctuary, a home that is ours to symbolize our new beginning, serve as a pillar of hope and inspiration-absolutely nothing remnant of the past.

…It has almost been two years, we are still living in the cute little craftsman-and around the corner from the ex. Granted, I have done what I can-I have made the best of it. Admittedly, some days my tolerance is better than others. Some days I curse it as a toxic hellhole and have a tantrum about the fact that we are still here. Friends? Sadly, it seems to be true that as you age they seem harder to find. There are many acquaintances though, and as a stepmother there are plenty of biomom’s to befriend-that is, if they welcome you to their clique, given that you aren’t a real “mom.” With all negativity aside, I have on several occasions been able to enjoy the hip little neighbourhood for what it is and without disruption. I have spent hours getting acquainted to this quickly growing fresh new city. Without any hesitation I can say, that I have come to enjoy it quite nicely.

And, on those days when I feel confined, unbalanced or stressed, I spend a lot of time back in my old stomping grounds where friends are bountiful, the atmosphere is sweet and the wine is fruitful. I hold tight on hope. I keep dreaming of that beginning when my life will have privacy and be uniquely ours. I believe, that one day, when the economic river begins to flow again. I will have my house, with a new Zen garden and sans the ex wife, the ex friends, and the ex life.