Dear Starting Over,

I hear the panic in your post and feel how scared you are and how bleak things seem right now. I am right along side you in the trenches, girlfriend, and you know my own story well enough to understand that I am not just giving you lip service here. Please try not to think negative thoughts: try to focus and visualize an assortment of positive outcomes instead. It doesn't matter how far-fetched or how likely or not you think they are to happen right now. The important thing is that you banish all doubts and negativity from your thinking so that you don't attract any more negativity from this universe. I believe that there is power in thought, and that events can manifest themselves from the mere suggestion of them in our minds. If you do not believe me, look into current chaos theory and read what some of the great scientists of our time are saying about the power of the mind. Please do not validate your fears and sabotage yourself.

Right now you are convinced that holding on to your house may not have been the best tactic for you to have taken, but may I respectfully submit that you do not have any way of knowing what might have happened had you actually left your house. Perhaps it might have been something even worse. You did the best you could have at the time, given the information you had and your emotional state of mind. Do not waste any more time beating yourself up about it because it is pointless and counter-productive.

When I posted on boomerwomenspeak.com last week, I was in an emotional black hole unlike anything I had ever experienced before, and believe me that's saying alot...My anger and pain were so overwhelming that I thought I could not possibly go on. My youngest son kept coming over to hug me, trying to evoke some emotional response from his usually lively mother and kept repeating to me with tears in his eyes "Mom, it looks like dad has sucked the life out of you." That was exactly how I felt. I could barely talk. And then a small miracle happened...

What I had not shared with you on this forum up until now is that I am the first-born child of Holocaust Survivors. My parents survived the horrors of Nazi concentration and Siberian forced labor camps during WWII. As some of you already know, my father has been very ill since Christmas when he was diagnosed with lung and metastatic lymphatic cancer. He suffered several strokes and a heart attack right before New Years. We have been very close over the years, and although we do not live in the same part of the country any more, a day rarely goes by when we do not talk over the phone. This has been very difficult since the strokes, as his speech, lucidity, strength and memory have all been adversely affected. I travelled back and forth to the east coast to be with him as soon and as often as I could given the fact that I have no money now and will not have any until the court decides what is happening with the divorce. (Still no temporary support - believe it or not!) Pretty lousy timing, huh? The doctors did not want to bother my dad with chemo because they felt the situation was hopeless. So here I was, losing my father who is my rock, my marriage of 20 years, my teen-age children (who are confused and tormented about love vs loyalties in lieu of the fact that they now know their father cheated on me and financially defrauded us as a family) and my sanity, all at the same time.

Well, last week, when I was at the end of my rope I got a phone call from my father using his cell phone for the first time in months. He sounded strong, clear-headed, and apologized to me (can you believe it?) for not having been available to support ME as things got rough, but said he was calling to let me know that he is here for me now. I had to pinch my arm to convince myself that I was not dreaming or hallucinating. After all, I had just come back from sitting at his bedside where I held on to his hands for two weeks, plastered a smile of encouragement on my face so that he would not see the fear in my eyes, and tried not to cry every time he woke up only long enough to roll his eyes back into his head and ask for more pain medication and ice chips.

My amazing father reminded me that I come from a long line of fighters, from a family who believe - in spite of the horrors they have seen and endured -in the basic goodness of people and in a benevolent universe. He said that I need to focus on the positive, and that if I cannot yet find it in my heart to wish my soon-2-b-x that things will work out even for his highest good, then to just believe with all my might that things will indeed work out for the best. He reminded me that we do not always know what lies in store for us, or what greater purpose there may be in our suffering that could have a positive affect on the rest of our lives and for those people we come into contact with. He reminded me that when both he and my mom (who is no longer alive) were in their bleakest, darkest moments, that was when their faith needed to be the strongest. It was not a time to abandon hope. Quite the contrary.

And so I share this small epiphany with you now. We are not talking genocide or ethnic cleansing here. We are talking about a couple of very small, disturbed, dysfunctional men who are trying to bring us down to their seedy level, and we cannot let that happen. Like Smilinize said in her post, we must hold on to our self-respect above all else. My parents always taught me that this and education are the two things no one can ever take away from you.

Hang in there, my friend. There will be a light at the end of this tunnel even if you cannot see it right now, and we will both emerge from it a little wiser, maybe with a few more battle scars, but hopefully much stronger and more sure-footed than ever before.

My thoughts and prayers are with you. I apologize for the length of this posting.

Foundhervoice-atlast

P.S. My dad gained eight pounds this last month, and God-willing will be undergoing his third round of chemotherapy next week...