I moved to Maine for love ~ ill-fated from the beginning, but I had failed to notice this. By the time I moved from Cambridge in 1998, we had been together for over two years, and I believed we were “working on” all things troubling in our relationship.
I didn’t really want to move to Maine—palm trees, not pine trees swayed in the wind in my dreams, so the northern climate didn’t call to me. I was seduced, I saw in hindsight, by my childhood expectations for my life that included a husband, a home, and a secure retirement. He offered all of this. I accepted. Within two more years, this fulfillment of what I considered the American Dream, became a horrifying nightmare.
I remember waiting in my spiritual director’s office in Old Orchard Beach, across the street from a church that had burned to the ground the previous week…about the same time my relationship ended in a storm.
I looked out the window at the mounds of brick and rubble, and I thought with despair—“This is my life.” But, even then, early in the nightmare, I could see it – the Phoenix rising out of the ashes of my old life.
As I rose from the rubble of that disastrous relationship, I discovered new interests that became defining, enduring elements in my life.
With all of these discoveries about myself, uncovered as I slowly rose from the ashes, I left Maine seven years after I had arrived…feeling victorious and free and new…transformed.