Reclaiming My HEA: I Have A Heart and a Brain, Now I Need Courage

Reclaiming My HEA is a monthly feature where I share my progress through my separation and divorce.  It also includes snippets of a therapy exercise where I imagine myself in a healthy relationship.  The purpose is to remind myself of what a supportive, caring partner would be like, to try and offset the effects of over a decade without one.

I don't like rejection.  Yeah, I know, it's a complete shocker.  No one likes rejection.  But that fear has been holding me back for a very long time and it's time for me to face it.  In short, I've already gotten my heart and my brain, which means it's time for me to wizard up some courage.  (Possibly cute braids and an innocent yet sultry singing voice as well, but those are more optional.)

I'm a GenXer, which means I'm very comfortable with jaded nonchalance and self-deprecating jabs.  But I am also a geek, which means I couldn't maintain a cool facade if my life depended on it.  By nature, I'm bouncy, excited and eager to share.  And over the years, my exuberance has been slapped down many times as "too much" for the people I was with.  I get caught between the necessity of being myself and the desire not to drive people away with who I am.

Yet, the thing is that who I am isn't bad.  I'm not claiming to be flawless or unproblematic, but as I try to untangle the negative messages of a lifetime, I'm realizing that I'm also not difficult or demanding.  I'm not "too much" for the world, just too much for some of the people in it.  And that's about them.  Not about me.

However, that's easier said that believed sometimes.  Especially when I'm taking the plunge of signing up for a dating app.

As I'm filling out the initial forms, all I'm finding myself thinking is about how the whole online dating process feels like setting myself up for a lot of rejection.  I don't really want to open myself up to a whole new crowd of people who will tell me that I'm "too much."

And yet, that's the price of admission.  If I want to find someone who thinks I'm exactly right just as I am, then I need to be strong enough to face the rejections.

This month's HEA writing exercise is based on a favourite scene of mine from the 1997 movie Fools Rush In, where the hero comes in to find the heroine preparing dinner.  While she cooks, she's dancing around the kitchen and he pauses to watch her, entranced by her exuberance and passion.

I dance a lot.  I'm usually the first one on and the last one off any dance floor.  I dance when I'm doing chores and sometimes just because I feel like it.  According to home movies, I've been doing it since I could barely walk.  But I've never had a romantic partner who treated it as anything except a joke.

Here is this month's snippet:

   The weekend getaway had seemed like the perfect idea.  A rare opportunity to relax without the pressures of their day to day life.  It would have all been much more effective if his business partner hadn't spent the last two hours bombarding him with emails and phone calls.  The excessive barrage had required him to descend into the hotel's business centre instead of spending the evening with his partner.

   Crisis finally resolved well after midnight, he returned to the suite, expecting to find his love sleeping or lost in a book.  Instead, as he slipped through the door, he heard the muted thump of dance music.  He stopped just inside the entrance, a shy smile curving his lips.

   He treasured these glimpses of the free spirit that still thrived in her.  Her life had been hard, far more difficult than it should have been, but it somehow hadn't crushed her.

   She spun and saw him watching her.  Instantly she slowed, uncertainty freezing the smile on her face.  He smiled at her, reassuring her that there would be no mockery or dismissal.  He held out his hand, inviting her to dance into his arms.

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Reclaiming My HEA: Part Three - Better Living Through Crushes

Reclaiming My HEA is a monthly feature where I share my progress through my separation and divorce.  Starting last month, I'm including snippets of a therapy exercise where I imagine myself in a healthy relationship.  The purpose is to remind myself of what a supportive, caring partner would be like, to try and offset the effects of over a decade without one.

I was recently asked to list off the names of people that I find attractive.  Hmm, thinking about cute guys... what a hardship.  Being firmly committed to my psychological recovery, I devoted myself to the task.

I am nothing if not thorough for my mental health.

As I compiled my list, two things became very obvious.  First: I have a lot of crushes.  Second: every one of those crushes are on fictional characters.

In some ways, it's not surprising.  Thirsting about fictional characters has none of the potential complications or ickiness of fantasizing about real world people.  One knows the inner heart of fictional characters, so there's no danger of discovering that one's crush is actually an asshole.  (Unless assholery is what works for you.)  Fictional characters are safely remote, never disappointing a person.  There's no risk of rejection or any other unpleasant consequence.  They're the safest kind of crush there is.

There's another bonus, especially if, like me, the fictional characters also tend to be superheroes.  They're also capable of larger than life actions.  They have superpowers.  They possess superior fighting skills.  They are deeply protective, especially when they love someone.  They are knights (in shining armor or otherwise) who are always willing to ride to the rescue.

In my fiction, I like a balanced rescuing on all sides.  However, I will admit that the idea of being rescued is extremely appealing to me.  In reality, I've been exhaustively doing the rescuing for a long time and it would be so refreshing to have someone else to rely on.  To not have to be on guard all the time.

The question is: what would I consider a rescue?  I don't need someone to snatch the mystical McGuffin or rip apart the fabric of space-time.

What I want is someone to give me a hug when I've had a hard day.  Someone who will tell me that they have faith in me and who will offer to help me, whether it's something simple like getting dinner started or more complicated like researching different school choices.  Someone who doesn't have to be asked to participate in the household.  Someone who wants to help and support me, because that's what people who are in love do for one another.

And, to be honest, that seems more fantastical than a guy who can bench-press a helicopter right now.  But I have to believe it's possible.

This month's snippet is my own version of a rescue.

   It had been one hell of a day.  From the moment I woke up, it seemed I was falling further and further behind.  My to-do list kept getting larger and larger and everything seemed to be utterly crucial.  As I struggled up to the house with grocery bags, I was so exhausted and overwhelmed that I was ready to cry.

   I fumbled with my keys, dropping them into the snow.  Great.  I put down the heavy bags, wincing at the icy chill on my fingers as I plucked the ring from the fluffy ice crystals.  Before I could shove the key into the lock, the front door opened.

   "Hey, I thought I heard the car," he said. "Let me give you a hand."

   My brain was too tired to come up with anything witty.  "I thought you were out of town until the weekend."

   He easily hefted three of the overloaded bags, leaving one for me.  "I finished up early.  I missed you."

  "I missed you, too."  The words were automatic, though the sentiment was genuine.  Or at least it would be once I got enough rest to wake up my benumbed brain and heart.  As I stepped into the house, I stopped, unable to believe my eyes.

   The toys scattered all over the floor had been tidied up.  My stack of library books was gone and a new selection waited in its place.  A neat pile of envelopes waited for my perusal.  He'd cleaned, gone to the library, and checked the mailbox.  My jaw was slack as I stumbled through to the kitchen.

   Pasta bubbled on the stove and a pan of tomato sauce simmered on another burner.

   He cooked dinner.  Tears pricked my eyes.

   "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

   "Five seconds ago, I was worrying about the kids eating late and having to pay late fines and when I was going to pick up the gift for the birthday party this weekend and my computer broke at work and people kept yelling at me because nothing was working and--"

   "Got it."  He wrapped his arms around me and planted a kiss on the top of my head.  "Bad day."

   "Yeah."  I sniffled.

   "I got you," he whispered in my ear.  "You don't have to do it alone any more."

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Reclaiming My HEA: Part Two - Practice Makes Perfect

 Reclaiming My HEA is a monthly feature where I share my progress through my separation and divorce.  Starting last month, I'm including snippets of a therapy exercise where I imagine myself in a healthy relationship.  The purpose is to remind myself of what a supportive, caring partner would be like, to try and offset the effects of over a decade without one.

A few months ago, I began rewatching Star Trek: Voyager.  It's my favourite of the Star Trek series (though Discovery is becoming a fast second place).  One of my favourite episodes is from the final season, one where Seven of Nine is using the holodeck to explore a romantic relationship with Commander Chakotay.

It's a storyline I would have liked to see more of (mainly because I'm a sucker for romance) but this time, as I watched it, one thought kept running through my mind: I would desperately love to have access to a holodeck right now.

A holodeck would have been terribly useful during shutdown, but that's not the reason.  The ability to have a "practice" relationship, to restore my confidence in myself and my own heart, that would be invaluable right about now.  I've spent a long time believing a lifetime of messages that I'm "too much" and fundamentally flawed.  It would be incredibly helpful to hear that I'm interesting, fun, and that someone would want to spend time with me.

As I type this, it strikes me how hard the words are to write.  And they shouldn't be.  No one should be made to feel that they are unlovable.

I just finished reading Helen Hoang's The Kiss Quotient, where an autistic woman hires a male escort for a practice relationship.  The heroine's struggles of self-confidence spoke very strongly to me.  At the end, the author said she'd wanted to do a gender-reversed Pretty Woman story for awhile but was having trouble finding a plausible reason why a lovely, intelligent, and independent woman would hire an escort.

The thing is, I think a lot of women are in the horrible position of having their self-confidence eroded by the very people who should be supporting them.  Over and over, as I've gone through this process, my friends have told me how they would never dare to get divorced and how much they would dread having to re-enter the dating arena.  Dating guides for divorced women consistently stress the dangers of being exploited or predated on, reinforcing a message that no one could possibly want to be with them unless that person had an ulterior motive.

There is so much that people are told they need to accept.  That they should be grateful for what they have and not risk it by asking for what they desire.  We are encouraged to be smaller in order to make others more comfortable.

Well, I think I'm done with being smaller.  Maybe I am "too much" but maybe I'm also just the right size.

Here's this month's snippet from my ongoing project.  This time, I focused on one of the lonelier experiences of single life: waking in the middle of the night from a bad dream and having no one to turn to.

   No matter how I struggled to run, the swampy mud clung to my feet with a clammy grasp.  I was desperate to escape the lethal creature I knew was pursuing me.  I knew I had to find my children before it did.  And I knew I was completely helpless as my muscles failed me and I collapsed into the murky water--

  "Hey, it's okay," a male voice interrupted.

  The images suddenly vanished, replaced by blackness.  I was disoriented, confused as I tried to figure out where I was.  I'd been standing a moment ago and now I was lying down.  The only constant was the frantic beating of my heart and the unrelenting fear that something terrible was about to snatch away everything that I cared for.  I tried to move but my body was still trapped in sleep paralysis.

   "What's wrong?" he asked again.

   My mind slowly put the pieces together and terror gave way to embarrassment.  "I'm sorry I woke you."

   "Forget that."  In the dark, his hands gently stroked the length of my arms.  "Tell me what happened."

   "It's nothing.  A bad dream."  I tried to dismiss it, my cheeks flaming hot.  The clock revealed it was hours before the morning was due to begin and despair filled me at the thought of losing a night's sleep.  I knew how this would work.  I'd spend the next hours staring blankly at the shadowed ceiling.  Every time I came close to falling asleep, the remembered fear would jolt me back into full wakefulness.  If I was lucky, I might eventually drift off a few minutes before the alarm went off.  I'd spend a week being exhausted and barely able to function.  All for a bad dream.

   "I can still feel you trembling.  It's not nothing."  His finger traced the line of my cheek.  "Please, tell me."

   He held me as I struggled to find the words for why the sensation of being trapped and chased had been so horrifying.  He didn't interrupt or try to analyze what I'd said.  He only listened, keeping me close to remind me that I was no longer facing the terror alone.  The steel grip of fear faded in the face of that one fact.  No matter what happened, I was no longer fighting all on my own.

We're not meant to face the world and its challenges completely on our own.  Trying to do so is exhausting.  It doesn't take much to be someone else's support.  The act of listening can make all the difference, but it sometimes seems impossibly rare.  Yet, I remain hopeful that this scene isn't strictly a creation of fantasy.  It can be real.  Not bad for a practice attempt.

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Reclaiming My HEA: Part One

 Reclaiming My HEA is a monthly feature where I share my ongoing process as I go through my separation and divorce.

Last month, I told you all about an exercise that my therapist set me: picking a celebrity and writing my own happily ever after.  The idea is to break myself out of a pattern of not looking for affection and of not trusting other people.  Before I can find happiness, I need to believe it's possible.  We can't create what we can't imagine and while I can imagine love and happiness for superheroes, robots, and magical creatures, I find it hard to imagine it for myself.

My first step was to choose my celebrity.  I was toying with Brendan Fraser, Brandon Routh or Keanu Reeves, and I was having a hard time choosing.  Luckily, my subconscious had everything in hand.  I had a dream where I was playing a table top RPG with my friends from high school (yes, I am a complete nerd even in my dreams), but there was an addition to our usual group: Brandon Routh.  In the dream, this was a completely unremarkable fact and we were all having a good time laughing and playing our characters.  When the game was done, Brandon and I were tidying up and, as a joke, he asked me to dance.

We started swaying back and forth to a Taylor Swift song.  It was a really nice feeling, being held and guided to the music.  I seized a moment of bravery and asked him to go out with me.

Unfortunately, his reply was to apologize and say that he wasn't interested in being more than friends.  (This illustrates why this exercise is necessary.  What happens in dreams reflects a person's deepest held beliefs and expectations.)  I woke up shortly thereafter, feeling both disappointed and strangely encouraged.  I decided to go ahead with Brandon for my exercise.

I started with something small:

    "Ready?"  His tenor voice made me smile, even from the other room.  Brandon appeared from the kitchen with a big bowl of popcorn.

    "You're sure you're okay with just watching TV tonight?" I asked.  It was still hard to believe that someone I'd seen on the television would be joining me to watch The Princess Bride.

    "Absolutely."  His smile was infectious.  "I love this movie."

    He settled onto the couch, patting the seat beside him.  I maneuvered around the popcorn bowl and joined him, unsure what to do with my hands.  Should I sit with legs crossed or uncrossed?  Would he expect me to lean into him or would that annoy him?

    "Relax," he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear.  "There's no wrong answer.  I just want to spend time with you."

     His arm stole across my shoulders, drawing me into his side.  My head leaned to the side to rest against his shoulder.  For the first time in a long time, I felt safe.  His warmth seeped through the thin layers of fabric separating us, a tangible reminder that neither of us was alone anymore.

So there you have it, my first foray into imagining a happily ever after for myself.  Not for a kickass heroine with superpowers or an intergalatic starship engineer or for any of the other characters who live in my head.  Just for me.

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Reclaiming My HEA: Pick Your Hotties

 Reclaiming My HEA is a regular monthly feature on this blog, sharing my experiences as I go through the process of a divorce after twenty years of marriage and adjust to being single again in my forties.

It's been awhile since I wrote about this and I've been through a lot.  As many of you may know, due to the circumstances with our children, my ex-husband and I decided to continue to share our family home so that our kids could continue to have access to both of us.  It's been a difficult decision (though I'm still convinced it was the right one) and doing it during a pandemic has been especially challenging. (I speak about the challenges of sharing a house with my ex in the previous Reclaiming My HEA.)

One thing that has been helpful is working with a therapist to deal with the internalized messages that are stuck in my head.  It's hard for me to believe that others might find me attractive, and since I've been having to deal with just about everything at home on my own, asking for help isn't something that occurs to me.

My therapist had a good idea.  Since I am a romance writer, she suggested I try to change my internal messaging by writing little scenes that feature my own happily-ever-after.  She suggested I pick a celebrity as my hero and imagine a future where I don't have to worry about money and have a devoted and caring partner.

Imagine a hot guy hanging around my house?  Yeah, I can do that.

As I considered my options, I thought that it might be fun to share some snippets on this blog.

First step, I'll have to pick my celebrity.  This is a little odd for me.  I'm used to crushing on characters, not the people who play them.  With the character, I'm not stuck with any less than awesome real life traits and I can ignore any real-world spouses or families with a clear conscience.

(And for the record, this is meant to be inspiration and entertainment, with zero intention of making any person feel awkward or imposed on, especially the chosen celebrity or their families and friends.  If this does happen to cross anyone's screen, I hope they'll understand that I am using their likeness as a shorthand for the kind of person I am hoping to one day find love with, not a declaration of hoping for them specifically.)

That said, here are the gentlemen I'm considering.  Votes and opinions welcome!

Brendan Fraser.  He was the go-to hot and nice guy in the late nineties and early 2000s.  I absolutely developed a crush on his character in The Mummy and The Mummy Returns.  And I'm probably one of the few people who absolutely loved Bedazzled.  He's a fellow Canadian and I can't recall ever hearing anyone say something bad about working with him.  I could see him as an enthusiastic, energetic guy, the sort who is always up to try something new.

Brandon Routh.  He is my all time favourite Superman, and I adore his Ray Palmer in DC's Legends of Tomorrow.  I have heard that he is a fellow geek and RPG player, which would be awesome.  In my imagination, I would assume that he shares his character's love of musicals.  Again, he's one of those actors whom everyone seems to love working with.

Keanu Reeves.  I can't think of a single Reeves role that I didn't love: Matrix, Speed, Constantine, John Wick, To The Bone, even Bill and Ted.  He is notoriously sweet and kind, to the point that Romancelandia has adopted him wholeheartedly.  I like to think of him as a curl up together in front of a fire, each with a book kind of guy.

Tempted though I am, reverse-harem is not an option for this particular exercise (I checked).

Any of these gentlemen would be a worthy romantic hero (or at least the versions of them that I'm imagining), so, readers, what do you think?

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Reclaiming My HEA: Hunkering Down (Sadly, without any hunks)

Reclaiming My HEA is a regular feature where I share what's been going on with my separation and divorce.

Things have changed rather drastically since my last Reclaiming My HEA post on March 5th.  It was only four weeks ago and in that time, my kids' schools have closed, my day job has shut down, and my ex-husband is now working from home.

That last one makes things difficult, since we're doing an in-home divorce, where we're continuing to share the family home and expenses.  This usually isn't a challenge.  I work from home and deal with the vast majority of the household and family planning and tasks.  I don't tend to see him that often, except during meals and the odd family activity.

Now, four of us are sharing a house that I usually have to myself five days a week.  (Or at least while the kids are at school.)  I'm finding it to be a real adjustment, especially since I'm having to take over managing the kids' schedules and dealing with any education stuff.  And keeping them from annoying the crap out of each other.

My ex and I might not have worked out as romantic partners, but I'm not in the "he-demon sent from the depths of hell" mindset regarding him.  There are plenty of frustrations, but he's not a bad person.

I've had to remind myself of that a lot over the last few weeks.  Some of it is just the stress of having four people around without the opportunity for our usual diversions.  My oldest has been particularly hard hit, since everything he does to relax is a public activity, which means its been no-go.  Some of it is the stress of financial uncertainty, now that I'm no longer employed.  Some of it is the stress of managing my extended family, particularly my parents.  I've somehow become the de facto therapist for a number of people, which I'm good to do, but it does take an emotional toll.

But some of it is that it's hard to ignore our incompatible approaches now that we're in each other's space throughout the day.  I've been seeing the headlines about a rise in divorces due to self-isolating, so I know I'm not alone in finding it frustrating.

It's been a struggle finding ways to escape and give myself some quiet time to myself.  A few times, I've been tempted to take the car and park somewhere random with my computer.  I miss getting together with my friends and having my monthly massage and hair appointments.  I miss being able to blast my music and dance around the kitchen.  I miss being able to immerse myself in a story.

However, I also recognize that as much as my life has been disrupted, it is very small compared to those who are struggling with COVID or watching their loved ones struggle.  Or worse, have already lost people to this disease or other complications due to the lack of health resources.  I don't want to be one of those petty people who can't see the bigger picture.  Having us all stay home might be aggravating but if it means that fewer people die, then I'm good with that.

Meanwhile, I'll just try to be gentle with myself and enjoy the parts I can enjoy.  And try hard not to think about the parts I don't.

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Reclaiming My HEA: Thoughts on Partnership

Reclaiming My HEA is a regular feature where I share what's been going on with my separation and divorce.

It's been a challenging month.  I'm finding myself worn out and struggling to keep up with things.  Which is not particularly surprising since I tend to work pretty solidly starting at six a.m. and going until after ten p.m.  

6-7, I'm doing household or business paperwork.  
7-9, get the kids ready for school (or weekend activities).  
9-2:30 is my day job.  
2:30 to 3:30 is my writing time.  
3:30 to 4, kids get home from school and I get them started on homework. 
4 to 4:30, walk the dog.  
4:30 to 5:30, editing (if everything is going smoothly and I'm not dealing with Bromaggeddon).  
5:30 to 6, make dinner.  
6 to 6:30, family dinner.  
6:30 to 8, making sure the kids have done what they need to do for the next day and getting them started on bedtime.  
8 to collapse, more editing.  Weekends, more editing and doing my social media and blog prep.

I'm the one who manages everything, who keeps track of appointments, makes sure we don't run out of toilet paper, and deals with all the other stuff that needs to happen to keep things running smoothly.  It's a lot of work and frankly, it hasn't been going very smoothly of late.

This week, I read an interesting article talking about how writers don't talk about the fact that the industry depends on authors having outside financial support.  (Not strictly connected, but there's also an awesome thread by Tessa Sharpe about the finances of publishing.)

The author of the article, Ann Bauer, talks about how she couldn't write in her first marriage because she was dealing with all of the responsibilities of the household, parenting, and earning an income.  Then she met her second husband and for the first time, had "a true partner."

Those three words stopped me dead in my reading.  Because I find that I can't imagine what that would be like.  I can imagine how a shapeshifting werebear would work, but I can't imagine having someone I could trust to help me with errands and responsibilities.

That's a pretty sad realization to come to.

The idea of going into the dating world is terrifying.  It wasn't particularly fun when I did it over twenty years ago.  Doing it now... not really something that I see going well.

But that's my fear talking and if decades of reading romance have taught me anything, it's that I need to listen to my hope as much as my fear.

So I'm going to take a lesson from my hopes and believe that it is possible for me to find an HEA.  Which means I will need to take some risks.  And I am strong enough to do that.

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Reclaiming My HEA: Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Reclaiming My HEA is a monthly feature talking about my progress through my separation and divorce.

The holidays were challenging for me.  Maybe it was just the usual family-oriented stress but I found myself dealing with a fair amount of depression.


I want to believe that great things are ahead for me.  That all of the hard work I've done to reclaim this part of my life will let me move forward into a happier, more connected life.  But I've spent a long time trying to manage my expectations and shrinking my dreams to fit into what I thought was possible.

At a deep level, in order to keep going, I had to convince myself that it wasn't possible for things to be better.  That real life meant compromise and settling.

Maybe having to break those reduced expectations is what triggered the anxiety and depression.  Humans do better when things are predictable.  Even if what they're predicting is absolutely horrible, it's easier to manage awful known catastrophes than dealing with uncertainty of not knowing what will happen next.

I don't know what will happen next.  Maybe I will find myself alone and I'll need to find a way to be okay with that.  Maybe I will find someone who makes me happy, and maybe it will work out and maybe it won't.  I can't know unless I try.

Trying is scary.  It means opening myself up to rejection, and a particularly personal rejection at that.  So it's okay if I take my time.  I don't need to rush and push myself into more stress than I can handle.

Because no matter what happens in the future, I need to take care of myself.

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Reclaiming My HEA: Is Everyone Else Right?

Reclaiming My HEA is a regular feature about my separation and divorce.  I'm learning a lot of lessons about myself and finding the balance between romantic hope and practical reality.

Since I began sharing that I was separating from my former husband, there is one response I've gotten over and over.  People are generally supportive, and then follow up with something along the lines of "if I lost/left my husband/wife/partner, I wouldn't want to go back into the dating circuit."

The consistency of this sentiment has surprised me, though maybe it shouldn't have.  Dating is about being vulnerable.  It's asking complete strangers to judge you on your attractiveness, character, and worth as an individual over and over.  It's having to metaphorically kiss a lot of frogs that, frankly, are just frogs, perhaps with a few toads thrown into the mix.  It means exposing ourselves to physical and emotional risks (I've only barely dipped my toe into the waters and I've already been called a wide assortment of insults and had to report threatening statements.)

It's frightening.  There's really no other way to describe it.  So I can understand people not being eager to jump into it, especially if they're in a reasonably happy relationship now.

Yet, at the same time, I can't imagine being happy and satisfied with an expectation of long, lonely years and decades stretching out before oneself.  I wouldn't be okay with not having the close companionship of an emotional and physical partnership for the rest of my natural life.

Maybe those who have told me that they would prefer to remain single would change their minds if they found themselves in my situation.  Or maybe they're more satisfied with their own company (which is probably a sign of good psychological health).

It's almost certainly my inner anxiety talking when I find myself wondering if they're right.  Maybe I shouldn't be trying.  Maybe I shouldn't expose myself to the risks.  Maybe I should just try to be happy being on my own.

The other part of myself, what I like to think is the more mature and healthy part of myself, reminds myself that I am actually reasonably content on my own.  I enjoy the company of others, especially friends, but I also enjoy having quiet time to myself.  I have a healthy sense of my boundaries and have already demonstrated that I will not allow them to be compromised in a vain sense of wanting to be considered someone special.

Allowing myself to recognize what I want, versus what society expects me to want, is an important part of being true to myself.  And the truth is that I want someone to share a kiss with, who will think of me when he hears a love song on the radio, and whose company I enjoy.  And it's okay for me to pursue that hope.

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Reclaiming My HEA: Being Open to Possibilities

Reclaiming My HEA is a regular feature about my separation and divorce.  I'm learning a lot of lessons about myself and finding the balance between romantic hope and practical reality.

Something happened a little while ago.  Nothing huge or life-shattering but another necessary step along the way to reclaiming my own happiness.

It's a holiday miracle!  (kind of)

I'm not usually a woman who gets flirted with, at least not a serious basis (or not in non-scuzzy ways which is a story for another time).  The other day, I had a pleasant moment of flirtation with a gentleman while waiting for an appointment.

I've had moments like this before.  They are exceptionally rare (as in one every few years), and when they happen, I am usually preoccupied with managing expectations as I don't want to cross lines.

I was doing that this time as well, and suddenly it occurred to me that I don't have to.  That if I met an attractive man who was interested in me, there is no longer anything preventing me from exploring that.

There are, of course, still other concerns, such as personal safety and protecting my children.  But there's no blanket impossibility.

This particular flirtation went nowhere and frankly, I don't think I would have wanted it to go anywhere else.  But it was a reminder that there are people out there who will find me interesting and attractive.  That I am no longer restricted by what was.

For now, that little step of freedom is enough for me.

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Reclaiming My HEA: Reigniting Romantic Hope

Reclaiming My HEA is a regular feature about my separation and divorce.  I'm learning a lot of lessons about myself and finding the balance between romantic hope and practical reality.

As I write this, I'm sitting on a beach with the warm sunshine in my face and my toes curled in the soft sand.  For any Canadian in November, this is already an unexpected and welcome treat, but what's drawing my attention are the other people on the beach.  Particularly the couples.

There are all kinds to watch here.  Young teenagers playfully navigating their first romantic relationships.  Parents working together to corral their children.  And the sweetest of all, an elderly couple walking hand in hand, where he keeps pausing to present her with the prettiest shells on the beach and she's saving every one in her handbag.

Some of these couples are obviously deeply in love with one another.  Others are caught up in the thrill of holiday freedom and enjoying a little commitment-free flirting.  Some seem to have settled into a comfortable partnership but still take a moment for a shared glance or passing touch.

I'm sure there are unhappy couples here as well.  Ones where it seems impossible for them to remember what drew them together in the first place or where the day-to-day grind has extinguished their connection.  I've been half of one of those couples.  I would look around and see people in love all around me and I would wonder what I was doing wrong and why my relationship had become so empty.

Now I find myself in the position of being entirely outside the romantic circle, looking in as an observer.  Dating in your forties is a daunting prospect and there are legions of toads out there which no amount of kissing will transform into a prince.  I've had to take stock of myself and ask myself the question: what is it that I really want?

Then as I was people-watching, I saw something which clarified it for me.  A younger couple (I would guess late twenties or early thirties) standing in a close embrace.  I couldn't see her face, but I could see his.  The expression on his face would be hard to describe, but as a romance author, I will give it my best shot.

His hand was cradling her face as if she were something unbelievably precious and rare.  He had a tender smile, as if this moment was making him happier than he'd ever believed would be possible.  And his eyes were smoldering with full-blazing passion.  Anyone whose partner was looking at them like that couldn't help but feel like the most beautiful, special, and loved person in the world.

Being a non-voyeuristic sort of person, I snuck away before they realized I had seen their private moment.  But the image lingered with me.

That's what I want.  I want to experience being on the receiving end of a look like that.  Because I find it impossible to believe that anyone could fake such a potent combination of affection, attraction, and passion.

There have been times when I've cynically wondered if those kinds of feelings ever occur outside the carefully scripted world of movies and books.  But now I've had a reminder that they do.  And that has given my little flame of hope a fresh spark.

Romance is all about tiny sparks in the darkness.  Because in our stories, no matter how black the night is, those sparks are just waiting to find the right circumstances to create the fires that will warm a heart forever.

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Reclaiming My HEA and My Intellectual Property Rights

It's getting close to Hallowe'en.  Let me tell you a scary story....

Going through a separation and divorce isn't easy.  There are thousands of details ready to trigger strife and argument.  I was ready to stand my ground on custody matters, financial support, and keeping my copies of JMS's Amazing Spider-Man.  But one that caught me by surprise was the need, as an author, to protect my intellectual property rights.

First, a quick definition for those not familiar with the term.  Intellectual property rights refer to the rights to things which have been created.  In my case, it applies to the books which I had written during the course of the marriage.  Even though my ex-husband had no hand in my writing career, there are two legal arguments that grant him a 50-50 share.  First, spouses are considered one person under the law.  Thus, what one creates, earns, or saves is shared equally with the other.  And second, an argument could be made that by providing the lion's share of financial support to the household, my ex-husband can be seen as a silent partner in my business, in the absence of any other legal clarification.

In any business, there are decisions to be made.  Do I submit a manuscript to a publishing house or do I self-publish?  What do I spend on covers and editing?  If I'm offered money for possible movie rights or foreign rights, do I accept the offer or hold out for a better one?  When I was married, these decisions weren't an issue.  I simply made them based on what I felt was best for my career and my business.

However, once I became separated, my ex-husband technically had the right to insist on an equal voice in making those decisions.  (To be clear, he had no interest in acting on that right and the situation between us is currently amicable.  But it was still a vulnerability that I wasn't comfortable leaving in place.)

I couldn't protect my income and keep all the money earned from my books.  Like any business, my author earnings will affect what I'm financially entitled to in terms of alimony and child benefits.  But I could ensure that my intellectual property rights were severed and all of my books are solely mine.

I ended up having to pay a one-time settlement, the equivalent of half of my saved income from book sales.  For that payment, I insisted on language which states that any further books are not considered joint intellectual property, including any books which were in the process of being written but not yet published.  The agreement also made it clear that my existing books were my sole intellectual property and that my ex-husband had no further right to them.

It was a bargaining chip that could potentially have been much more costly.  Particularly if I hadn't been aware of it and had left the property rights as joint.  Things are cooperative now, but that doesn't mean they will be in the future.

A lot of romance novels start with a hero or a heroine in financial difficulty, with them having been forced into a desperate situation.  I'm looking forward to finding a new happily-ever-after, but that doesn't mean I want to begin in crisis.  In this matter, I've protected myself and I'm feeling like a proper heroine because of it.

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Reclaiming My HEA: Starting Again At The Beginning

I've decided to start a new regular feature on the first Thursday of every month: Reclaiming My HEA.

Last year, I separated from my husband of nearly 20 years.  It was a difficult decision but we'd reached a point where the things we wanted from our relationship were no longer compatible.

It put me in a difficult position.  Obviously, I wasn't in the best frame of mind to be writing romance and couples falling in love.  There were points where it was actually painful to read and write my favourite genre, because it hurt to see couples overcoming immense differences when my own relationship was falling apart over things which seemed eminently more fixable that the fictional obstacles, if only both partners had been willing to make that effort.

But at the same time, romance kept me from becoming bitter and angry.  Every time I did read a romance, I was reminded of the central premise behind the entire genre: that there is always a chance at love, no matter how bad things seem at any given moment.  

Life is not solely a series of battering events where one can only aim for survival.  There are wonderful moments, too.  And any person, no matter how difficult their life has been, can find themselves living a life better than they ever dreamed.  Romance gives us the stories that keep us going.

Through the support of my friends and my stories, I came to see my decision to separate not as a sign that I had failed at love, but rather as one of my self-worth.  That I didn't (and indeed shouldn't) need to accept a relationship that made me feel like less than I truly was.  I hadn't failed, I had re-opened the opportunity for my own happily-ever-after.

I don't know what the future has in store.  I'm well aware that the odds are against me, but that no longer frightens me as it once did.  The act of creating room for hope has made me happier.

I'd like to share this journey with you, my readers.  It's a scary new world, but isn't that where all of our favourite stories start?

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