Leaving Behind, Burning Bridges, Starting Over

Leaving behind, burning bridges, starting over.  This used to be my signature.  I have lived so many lives, the child growing up under her loving parents care, in their home, with not a care in the world, save for the worry about boys, friendships, appearance.  I was the angst-y teenager telling my mother I hated her, cursing the world, hating my life, not knowing what I wanted.  I was the wide eyed open as a book traveler, traveling to Israel, living on a kibbutz, learning a new language, a new lifestyle, changing all the while, trying to make sense of the world.  I was the returning nomad, returning to her parents home, unable to feel at home so far away from all that was familiar, without the familial support.  I was the rebel, unhappy living as a religious Jew in a non religious world, with nary a social life.  I left my parents, lived with a man, much older then myself, ultimately married him and bore a daughter with him.  We were not a match, our expectations did not converge.  When my daughter was young, I separated from her father, moved out, for the first time I had my own place, my own space.  I fixed it up, I enjoyed it.  It was mine, all mine.  Bi-curious exploration followed, a short phase of my life in which I found something new, something different, but not lasting.  I could not reconcile myself to the anger, to the piety of the anger of women in society.  I did not feel angry, I liked myself, I liked my life, and I liked men.  My daughter growing up, but no ruler by which to measure moral growth, ethical mores.  The openness of the society around me was too much so, so open minded their brains were spilling out.  No discipline, no menschlikeit, no ambition.  I wanted more for my daughter and so I returned, once again, to the safe harbor of my parents nest, to the intricate lifestyle of the religious Jew.  A year long tantrum ensued, by a young girl traumatized by the changes wrought in her life - new school, new peers, new teachers, different (and more) expectations, different lifestyle, new language to learn, new mores, new culture.  Her world was upside down.  Her mom adamant.  After the tantrum ended and life could begin once again, I took up the search for “the one” -- for a husband.  For the perfect man for me.  And find him I did -- after four years of dating losers, jerks, rejects, after four years of being a loser, a jerk and rejected, after four years of being treated like all of the above by the so called matchmakers.  I found him, he was perfect for me.  We had 9 ½ years together, of wedded bliss.  Bliss it was.  And then, he was gone.  A slip and fall on the ice, just like that, he was gone.  And my life, the life I had come to finally love and treasure and want to keep, was gone.  I no longer wanted to leave behind , burn bridges, start over.  I was content,  I was happy.  I had a good life.  All gone.  In an instant.  Poof.  He left behind such a mess as to separate me from his family, his daughters, his parents, his sisters.  His ex wife, not one to let any advantage go to waste pounced, like a cat on it’s prey, long talons stretched out to catch her prize and never let go.  I have lost it all.  Bereft of all I loved and held dear I will once again be  Leaving behind, burning bridges, starting over.  My signature has not changed.