Life, just waiting when you’re ready for it

I was out walking yesterday, on Easter Sunday, with a friend of mine. A mother of four, in her early fifties, she had been struggling with her post-divorce life for a while.

“I thought things would be better when I divorced, ” she had told me about a year ago. Her ex-husband was an alcoholic and extremely controlling. Still, it took her many years to get out of that martriage. She is Catholic. She took her wedding vows very seriously, and even though everyone could see that she needed to make an exit, she stuck it out, trying to make things work, for a very long, painful time.

But in divorce, of course, the challenges may change, but they never completely disappear. Which is a hard thing to accept. We like to think of divorce as a bid for freedom, for authenticity, and it is those things in many ways, but it also ushers in a different kind of struggle.

You are alone, for one.

If you have children, you are a single parent, the good and bad cop all in one. Some divorced parents do an excellent job with working together to retain a united front with their kids, but more often than not, you are left to figure out a new way of being  a Mom or Dad.

So, my friend and I have talked through all these issues a lot. (Hey, isn’t that what Sunday morning walks are for?) We have talked about how we drink too much wine sometimes – by ourselves. We have talked about how to maintain weight loss. We have talked about dating disappointments. We have talked about the lack of eligible men for women of a certain age. We have talked about the black hole our exes have left in the lives of our children. Hers went off to California, and rarely sees the kids. Mine quickly got remarried (for the third time) after we split and started devoting all his time, energy and money to them. (The Family Responsibility Office actually had to cancel his driver’s license – their last resort – because he hadn’t paid child support for months.)

I mean, we have walked the walk, she and I.

But yesterday, things had changed.

“It worked,” she told me, shaking her head in disbelief. “My Man Mantra worked.”

A friend of hers at work, who is very spiritual, had written out a man mantra for her – a little prayer, really, that she was to say to herself every night and every morning. Her friend regularly speaks to people who are ill, and helps them compose a love letter to the soul of their liver, for example, if they have an ailment in their liver. She believes in the healing power of the universe that we can control to some extent – or at least, access.

My friend accepted the mantra, which had been written down on a piece of paper, but a day later, she lost it. “Can you write it out for me again?” she asked her spiritual friend.

“No, I can’t,” she replied. “That wouldn’t be right. I do it once. That’s it.”

My friend tried to cajole her into giving it to her again. But no. Forget it.

A week later, when she was going through her purse, she found it.

“Ah,” said her work friend. “That is good. It means you will meet someone this year.”

So, my friend started saying the mantra every night before she went to bed, and every morning when she woke up. She didn’t do any online dating, and she lives a pretty busy life with her work and kids, so she doesn’t get out much.

About a month ago, a neighbour told her that a man she knew had just been widowed in a sudden way. His wife of almost twenty-five years fell dead of a heart attack in her fifties. He was lonely. Would it be alright if he called her? My friend had met him once, years ago, when she was married. Now living out of town, he has three children, two still at home and one off at university. She told her neighbour to give him her email and her home number.

He is now her Gentleman Caller. Every night, he calls to talk to her. He texts her to ask about her day. They sent each other pictures of themselves to get re-acquainted. For a month this went on, without meeting.”It is so nice to have someone want to know about  your day,” she said, explaining that it had been such a long time since a man had taken an interest.

And then they decided to meet. “Be prepared,” I told her. “It’s always weird to meet someone in the flesh after you have developed a connection with him via email.” Somehow, our imagination goes to work when we are in email-only mode. We get a picture in our heads of what he looks like, the way he is, which can make things very disappointing or very lovely when we finally meet. It’s why my rule with online dating is always to meet sooner rather than later. Always best to get that sense of who the person is, physically, before your head starts running away with you.

They met. She liked him, although she did agree that he was different than she had imagined – or remembered.

But the best part? Wonderful kisser. “Oh yes,” she reported to me yesterday. “Very good. Very passionate. Full of promise,” she giggled.

Next step. He is coming into town in a week or so. Hotel room! Even their phone calls are getting a little hot and heavy.

The Mantra, you see. It worked. “I stopped saying it after I met him,” she laughed. “But I’m thinking I will start again. I mean, gee, bring it on,” she said, gesturing with her arms to the universe.

She is also going to set up a meeting for me with her mantra-writing friend. She likes to meet you, ask what it is you want, and then write a little script. But the principle is simple.

“You just need to be clear about what you want. You need to signal to the universe that you are ready to meet someone who will be right for you.”