I've been doing mostly OK since the divorce. I have felt wistful at times, even a little anxious, but not nearly what I was prepared for - I (and others) fully expected a full nervous breakdown. My doctor even asked if it was necessary if I attend the actual court proceedings.
I spent the 45 minutes before the hearing wondering if my husband would show up, and if I really wanted him to, and what the hell would I say to him if he DID show, wishing he would because I really needed him there - and ultimately - he didn't. I don't know why. I could guess, but - honestly - I have been guessing and second-guessing his behavior for years, and I am too tired now to mess with it.
I do feel sad about it. We never really talked about why he left - other than he was miserable... miserable how? Miserable in what way? Miserable-how-the-hell-can-I-do-anything-about-the-problem-if-you-won't-talk-to-me? We never really talked about him moving out. He announced he was doing it and *poof* he was gone. We never really talked about his affair. He said he was having an emotional affair with her the day he moved out. That he needed space and time to work on things. We never talked about that deception. We never talked about anything really.
I guess, ultimately, I'm not really surprised he didn't show up for the divorce.
And I was pretty much OK until tonight. Tonight, I came home and the apartment dumpster was empty. I thought, "Oh! Now would be a good time to dump the mattress! It would be on the bottom, and wouldn't take up a lot of room that way!" I even went so far as to thinking about how silly it would look to have a friend and her son help us get it into the dumpster. This mattress set is old - and neither I nor ex-Mr are small people. My folks are giving me a spare set from their place to replace it, so this really seemed like a good idea.
And then all hell broke loose - a figurative emotional hell. Not quite histrionics, but definitely in the snotting on the shirt because Kleenexes just aren't going to cut it category.
I realized I'm not ready to give my bed up. It is my marriage bed. It is my bed. It was our bed. My husband held me in that bed. He loved me - as best as he was able - in that bed. I slept beside him and felt safe in that bed. Our dog chewed a hole in the mattress and bled on it when he tried to go through the bedroom window after the postman. We tickled our kids in that bed. It still holds the depression of his body. He read to me in that space. I grieved for him, and for our marriage, in that space. I still wake up reaching for him in the night expecting him to be there - and he isn't.
I understand the sacredness of that space is lost on him. I know (now) that he was sleeping with her whilst he was sleeping with me in that bed. I wonder, sometimes, if he was thinking of her while he was sleeping with me. There were times I knew something was wrong - but I couldn't figure it out. So, on one hand, my marriage bed has been violated and must go! On the other hand, it is the last real part of my marriage and all the hopes I had for it. It is the last bit of him I have.
In another time, in another space, I think I would have been OK burning the bed - cleansing by flame with water and wine and bread and salt - healing, purification, closure. I don't want to return it to him - because I'm really not OK with sharing our bed with other people. But, throwing it in the garbage seems so .... sacrilegious? Ungrateful? Sad. Mostly sad - incredibly, heartbreaking, damnthisreallyishurtingtonight kinds of sad.
I could never bring anyone else into that bed. Right now, that isn't a big deal. I can't imagine taking anyone else to bed - this bed, or any bed. I'm sure that will change as I heal, but I don't think I am there yet. Just another something missing in our society. No one in our society would question a widow wanting to keep her bed. She would receive understanding and compassion, and support. In our society, a divorcee is expected to toss the mattress or have as many people in it as possible.
I honestly don't know what to do. I don't regret divorcing ex-Mr. That was a healthy and necessary choice. That was the right thing to do, for me, for my son, and ultimately - for ex-Mr. I hate the choice I made, but I would make the same choice again without hesitation. THAT part, I'm OK with. It is sorting through the detritus of my marriage that is hurting tonight - the unhooking, the shredding remnants of something precious to me, the biding farewell to wishes and hopes and dreams, the letting myself just feel and grieve.
This is a process (so sayth the Therapist). There will be fits and starts and some days will be better than others. Grief isn't a one-direction trip. Healing doesn't happen in a straight line. I am going to handle this in my own way and in my own time and I will be stronger and healthier at the end of it all.
Yeah. If I repeat that often enough, I might believe it one day.
Right now, I just wish it done.
Still.
I wish I could burn it.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Saturday, June 2, 2012
June, Wakes, and Zombies
June has been a time of transition for the last several years. I'm not sure why everything seems to happen during this month. End of the school year? As good a time as any to turn lives upside down?
This June is no exception.
This Thursday, I will be divorcing my husband.
I feel like I should have a wake or some such, and punted the idea to some friends. They aren't Irish, so the main idea of wakes that they have includes large amounts of alcohol. That isn't exactly what I needed. I need a wake.
I needed to tell the story of the good times in our marriage. Right now, they are hard to recall. There is a lot of pain in the way. In order to heal and to grieve, I have to remember that there was more than pain and betrayal in my marriage.
I remember going for car rides in the snow. The stillness of the whole Earth as he drove through the night - just watching the flakes fall in the headlights of the car. Sharing stories while the kids slept in the back seat. I remember the very well meaning application of capsaicin creme on a damaged knee... and the resulting screaming when I had a bad reaction to it (that sounds like a "bad" thing - but he was very contrite, and had no way to know I was sensitive to it.. *I* didn't know - now - ten years later, it is funny. Then, not so much.) I remember him taking me to see Beauty and the Beast at a local dinner theater, and his compassion when some of the scenes were a little too close to personal.
I remember sitting on the front porch wrapped in a blanket watching it storm. I remember running the laptop's power cord through the window so we could sit outside and watch the IT Crowd and Gordon Ramsey after the kids had gone to bed. I remember the blue of the sky through the open windows of the chapel at our church on our wedding day. I remember my mother saying that I looked genuinely happy. I remember him staying with me during my knee surgery, and feeling terrified. He said that I didn't have to stay, and that I could leave, and he would take me home, but that my knee would still hurt, and it wouldn't get any better - ultimately though, it was my decision. I remember sitting in the dark watching the Christmas tree lights.
I remember sleeping with the balcony door open and camping in the living room. I remember listening to him lector at our parish, and how special it was to receive communion when he was the LEM. I remember driving around after Mass and listening to NPR and watching the leaves change color. I remember how he saved Kiddo's life by coming to get him when I found out the child had swiped my mother's ring and broke it - and instead of bringing the parts home, he threw away a platinum and sapphire ring... and the husband called my folks to talk me off the crazy cliff. I remember his hunting down a local yarn store - and going in - to get me a present. I remember him introducing me as his wife.
I remember him plastering the ceiling of my office because I couldn't reach it. If you only knew how much he hated home improvements or projects like that, you would understand the depth of his sacrifice. I remember him trying to teach me to drive on the snow. I remember him stopping in a random gas station and picking up a sheep magnet for me - because I might enjoy it. I remember him taking me back to the store to get the puppy I had cried over - and he is right - we really should have named the dog Lunchbox. I remember watching Buffy and Angel - back to back episodes in a marathon of awesome. I remember the shared fear we have of a root cellar in our basement. In nine years, we have opened that door maybe three times. I remember getting lost while house hunting, and finding our home by accident. It wasn't on the list that the realtor had given us - but we knew at first sight that it was perfect.
I remember the diamond tennis bracelet he bought me for graduation. I had always resented my dad buying one for a cousin who graduated high school. The husband remembered, and bought me one when I graduated college. I remember how he went out the way to buy me books for Christmas. I remember getting for real mail from him.
Much like a wake, this also brings to mind the sadder things.. like how I knew something was going on with our marriage when the mail stopped. Or how hurt I was when there weren't any books this year.
Sometimes, I think it would be easier if my husband had died. Then I could remember him as he was in my head. I would be able to cling to my delusions, and grant him hero status. I wouldn't have to face reality. I wouldn't have to wonder how much of what we had was real, if any of it was real. I wouldn't have to wonder how long my marriage had been dead before I clued in. I wouldn't have to hear about the horrible things he has said about me to people we know - because people won't speak ill of the dead, and they sure wouldn't tell his grieving widow of his faults.
In a divorce, I don't have the same social protection as a widow, but my loss, and the damage done to our family is just as great. Maybe that's why we don't have wakes for a divorce. Everyone seems to be glad I "have come to my senses" and am "finally divorcing the SOB." No one seems to understand (care?) that this decision is killing me.
At a wake, folks sit with the body of their loved one - letting the soul out, keeping watch, guarding the body until the physical remains can be returned to the Earth. They share stories. They keep the memory of their kin and friends alive through the sharing, through community. They remember. It hurts - hence the whiskey. Laughter cauterizes the wounds of death. There isn't anyone that will stand watch with me, not in the way that I need. That - perhaps - is the hardest part of this divorce. The person who would have watched with me, who would have poured the whiskey and handed me the salt - is the person I am divorcing.
My marriage is dead. It has been dead for a really long time. Like the widow at the wake, I've been clinging to the coffin and refusing to let them take it to the church yard. Keening my grief, denying reality, demanding accounting from God. What is inside the coffin no longer resembles my love, my marriage, or my husband - it is rank with decay, and soiled with betrayal. I understand that on Thursday, I am not killing anything, as the marriage is already dead. I am just letting them bury the body.
I just wish - like any widow - that my husband would be here to hold my hand, to comfort me, to share my grief. My husband is dead, and has been. The person walking around in his skin is not my husband.
Fuck - I read too many books. I seriously just wondered if that was what was going on - if STBX was a changeling, or a doppleganger, or a zombie.... and my copy of The Zombie Survival Guide is at home.
Wednesday, my friends and I will drink the last of the mead made for my wedding. My mother will go with me to the court house. My doctor has given me medication to help me cope. And I will rebuild my life without my best friend.
And never again will I sit a wake sober. This is awful. Just saying.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Reading List - Summer
I have been reading - a lot - lately. All terribly practical stuff that relates to the thesis. All as yummy as congealed, unsweetened oatmeal.
So, I polled my friends and compiled a list of summer reading:
Rule #1: Be Me - this means I need to do the things that bring me joy - voracious reading, knitting, building home with Kiddo, being present to the joy in our lives.
So, I polled my friends and compiled a list of summer reading:
Burroughs, Augusten (2012). This is How: Proven Aid in Overcoming Shyness, Molestation, Fatness, Spinsterhood, Grief, Disease, Lushery, Decrepitude, & More. For Young and Old Alike. St. Martin Press: New York, NY.
Duhigg, Charles (2012). The Power of Habit: Why We Do What We Do in Life and in Business. Random House: New York, NY.
Gaiman, Neil (2001). American Gods (have this scheduled as an audiobook for the road trip on Monday)
Gladwell, Malcom (2005). Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking. New York: Little, Brown.
Hobb, Robin (2012). City of Dragons: Vol. 3 of The Rain Wilds Chronicles. Harper Voyager: New York, NY.
Lackey, Mercedes (2012) Redoubt: Book Four of the Collegium Chronicles. DAW --- yes --- I KNOW it isn't due out until October 2... but there is seriously that much anticipation... Did I mention I am a Mercedes Lackey fangirl?? So totally.
McCaffrey, Anne and Todd McCaffrey (2012). Sky Dragons: Dragonriders of Pern. Del Rey - Due out June 26!!!! Kiddo and I have made it a summer tradition to listen to Pern stories in the evening instead of TV. He colors or builds with Legos, and I knit while listening to someone read us a story :) This is joy.
Tan, Amy (2011). Rules for Virgins. Byliner: San Francisco, CA.
Tolle, Eckhart (1999). The Power of Now: A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment. Namaste Publishing: Vancouver, BC.
Rubin, Gretchen (2009). The Happiness Project. HarperCollins: New York, NY. (Not really suggested, but a friend is reading it, and it is about time to revisit it.)Pretty solid mix... I'm pleased with it. Mom got a Nook for Christmas, so I'm pretty sure her stash of trashy romance paperbacks have about disappeared. That is a bit sad, but if I get through this list, maybe I can borrow her Nook :)
Rule #1: Be Me - this means I need to do the things that bring me joy - voracious reading, knitting, building home with Kiddo, being present to the joy in our lives.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Perspective on Memorial Day
On Memorial Day, we are called to remember those who loved their country more than selves - to set an empty place at table for the service men and women who will never come home again. To remember their families left behind to pick up the parts and pieces of their lives - and carry on.
In her recent New York Times article, Burana describes this image as only a military wife can - and it is the stuff of nightmares. I was one of the lucky military wives. I soldiered through deployments and through non-accompanied tours. I never had to send my husband off to war. Even as a child, when my dad left for war, I don't think I really understood that he could die "over there" - just that my dad was gone.
As an adult - even with all the issues and heartache of my marriage - I can thank God I was never in the position of Mrs. Cathey and her unborn child. For sparing me and my family, thank you to all the soldiers who faced this ultimate sacrifice and were willing to die to protect my country and my family. Thank you, Mrs. Cathey and all the families who are carrying the cost of that sacrifice.
The empty place at my table tonight is only symbolic. I remember your sacrifice. I am grateful for your sacrifice. You are remembered.
Peace be with you and yours this night.
 |
| Mrs. Cathey sleeping next to her husband the night before his funeral. Todd Heisler/Rocky Mountain News - 2005 |
In her recent New York Times article, Burana describes this image as only a military wife can - and it is the stuff of nightmares. I was one of the lucky military wives. I soldiered through deployments and through non-accompanied tours. I never had to send my husband off to war. Even as a child, when my dad left for war, I don't think I really understood that he could die "over there" - just that my dad was gone.
As an adult - even with all the issues and heartache of my marriage - I can thank God I was never in the position of Mrs. Cathey and her unborn child. For sparing me and my family, thank you to all the soldiers who faced this ultimate sacrifice and were willing to die to protect my country and my family. Thank you, Mrs. Cathey and all the families who are carrying the cost of that sacrifice.
The empty place at my table tonight is only symbolic. I remember your sacrifice. I am grateful for your sacrifice. You are remembered.
Peace be with you and yours this night.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Employment?
So - I interview for a new job Monday week.
I'm feeling pretty darn conflicted. On one hand - It is work. It will feed my child. It will offer health insurance. It will pay my bills. It doesn't involve fast food, wearing a blue vest or shouting "Gimme a Squiggly!" and shaking my arse like an idiot in public (How I shake my arse in private is none of your business - needless to say, it is just as frightening, there are just fewer witnesses).
On the other hand - it is very far away from my friends and from Kiddo's friends/school/extracurricular activities - you know - everything important to a teenager.
It is closer to my parents. I have lived away from them - like hours and hours - for nearly 20 years, and when mom had a heart attack last year, I was horrified that she might die, and I would be too far away to get there in time to say goodbye. And I felt guilty that I hadn't been to see her more. Do keep in mind, one of the reasons the STBX agreed to cell phones was the realization that you don't have long distance charges on cells - and I talk to my mom for about 45 minutes a day on the phone. Yeah - being closer to my mom is a good thing.
It is also very far away from everything that I consider "civilization." It is not where I want to end up. I really do just want a flat above a shop somewhere that I can walk or ride the train to work. Where I can walk to the shops. You know - some place that has a population of liberal folks greater than 2.5 ... yes... you read that right... 2.5 people. That half - well - that guy got lynched O_o I would make person #3.
The job sounds incredibly interesting. It would still be in my current line of work, but dealing with the public more. There would be more diversification in the stakeholders. I would be able to leave at the end of the day, and leave my work there. I would have time for volunteer work at the Women's Shelter. I would even still have time to teach a class or so at the local community college.
The area is NOT known for its religious diversity though, nor for its acceptance of minorities of any variety.
But - they are the only people who have called me back for an interview. I'm not seeing where there is much choice in the situation. I could stay here and live out of a cardboard box, or I could go stay with my parents. I could stay here and live paycheck to paycheck, until I don't get them any more, and live each term with the knowledge I may not have a job in 10 weeks. Or I can go somewhere where I know how much I'll get paid each month, and know that I will get paid.
There is a university in the area that offers a PhD in a field closely related to mine. After a year, I would have established residency, and could go back to school to get my PhD. That would be a positive. I would be finished about the same time Kiddo graduates high school. Then I could go teach in Europe somewhere. See the world. Have a little flat in Paris.
So - I have been setting myself up to rock this interview. I have professional clothes, a decent haircut, and even had my eyebrows done. (I am no longer an older than dirt eyebrow virgin. The idea of getting them professionally done scared me to death! The cost to pay someone to rip out my hair!! But my salonist only charged $10, and she convinced me that it wouldn't kill me. It wasn't AWFUL... but it is on the same "fun" list as getting a pap smear.) I have practiced interviewing with the university's career services. I have relevant questions ready. I am prepared to rock this interview - because when it comes right down to it - my kid eating is more important than what I want to do or where I want to live.
I appreciate any positive energy you can send my way. I need this job. Or - if this job isn't what the universe has in store for me, could someone please tell the universe I don't do well with subtlety.
Thanks!
I'm feeling pretty darn conflicted. On one hand - It is work. It will feed my child. It will offer health insurance. It will pay my bills. It doesn't involve fast food, wearing a blue vest or shouting "Gimme a Squiggly!" and shaking my arse like an idiot in public (How I shake my arse in private is none of your business - needless to say, it is just as frightening, there are just fewer witnesses).
On the other hand - it is very far away from my friends and from Kiddo's friends/school/extracurricular activities - you know - everything important to a teenager.
It is closer to my parents. I have lived away from them - like hours and hours - for nearly 20 years, and when mom had a heart attack last year, I was horrified that she might die, and I would be too far away to get there in time to say goodbye. And I felt guilty that I hadn't been to see her more. Do keep in mind, one of the reasons the STBX agreed to cell phones was the realization that you don't have long distance charges on cells - and I talk to my mom for about 45 minutes a day on the phone. Yeah - being closer to my mom is a good thing.
It is also very far away from everything that I consider "civilization." It is not where I want to end up. I really do just want a flat above a shop somewhere that I can walk or ride the train to work. Where I can walk to the shops. You know - some place that has a population of liberal folks greater than 2.5 ... yes... you read that right... 2.5 people. That half - well - that guy got lynched O_o I would make person #3.
The job sounds incredibly interesting. It would still be in my current line of work, but dealing with the public more. There would be more diversification in the stakeholders. I would be able to leave at the end of the day, and leave my work there. I would have time for volunteer work at the Women's Shelter. I would even still have time to teach a class or so at the local community college.
The area is NOT known for its religious diversity though, nor for its acceptance of minorities of any variety.
But - they are the only people who have called me back for an interview. I'm not seeing where there is much choice in the situation. I could stay here and live out of a cardboard box, or I could go stay with my parents. I could stay here and live paycheck to paycheck, until I don't get them any more, and live each term with the knowledge I may not have a job in 10 weeks. Or I can go somewhere where I know how much I'll get paid each month, and know that I will get paid.
There is a university in the area that offers a PhD in a field closely related to mine. After a year, I would have established residency, and could go back to school to get my PhD. That would be a positive. I would be finished about the same time Kiddo graduates high school. Then I could go teach in Europe somewhere. See the world. Have a little flat in Paris.
So - I have been setting myself up to rock this interview. I have professional clothes, a decent haircut, and even had my eyebrows done. (I am no longer an older than dirt eyebrow virgin. The idea of getting them professionally done scared me to death! The cost to pay someone to rip out my hair!! But my salonist only charged $10, and she convinced me that it wouldn't kill me. It wasn't AWFUL... but it is on the same "fun" list as getting a pap smear.) I have practiced interviewing with the university's career services. I have relevant questions ready. I am prepared to rock this interview - because when it comes right down to it - my kid eating is more important than what I want to do or where I want to live.
I appreciate any positive energy you can send my way. I need this job. Or - if this job isn't what the universe has in store for me, could someone please tell the universe I don't do well with subtlety.
Thanks!
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Faulkner and Gratitude
Today is one of those days where you wonder if the Internet gods are trying out their version of prophecy, or an oracle, or divine intervention.
As a general rule, I detest lists. I'm not a "list-y" sort of person. It is a throw back to elementary school and feeling like I lacked autonomy. That said, I am also grownup enough to know that lists are the way my social world works, and if I want to survive in it, I might need to consider making my peace with them.
One of the "list" blogs I read is Marc and Angel Hack Life. It is a blog of lists containing the essential elements of the sort of life I want for myself. They read all the books I want to read, but don't have time for yet - to be fair, I have read some of the books they recommend, and the others are on request from the library or on Amazon's Wish List. The short end of that is: I hate lists but I like their lists. I find their lists useful, and not repressive. Although, I have to admit, I have struggled with some of the ideas they have shared over the years. I wasn't ready to hear them.
Today's leading photo is of a woman standing in front of a mirror. Her pose is reminiscent of Rosie the Riveter. On her hand and arm is the phrase, "Thanks. You've made me believe in personal power again."
My last post was a letter of gratitude to my STBX. I was asked if that was a true letter of gratitude, or if it was - in the Faulkner-ian sense of Southern gentility - really just bashing the STBX and couching it in terms of gratitude. And honestly, the idea had never occurred to me. I have spent the last chunk of time trying to suss out the reality of my emotions and motivations. Was I writing from a position of gratitude, or was I trying to bash?
This is important to me because I do want to be honest - one of the founding premises of this blog is about being honest and genuine, even if it is ugly. And I didn't really THINK I was being sarcastic, ugly, or manipulative - but I do want to be SURE because the person I think I am, the person I want to cultivate is an honest person.
Today's Marc and Angel post is about the 14 Rules for being YOU. Since I thought I was being honest and ME, I think that evaluating my previous post in light of these rules might be useful - I also reserve the right to be absolutely wrong.
As a general rule, I detest lists. I'm not a "list-y" sort of person. It is a throw back to elementary school and feeling like I lacked autonomy. That said, I am also grownup enough to know that lists are the way my social world works, and if I want to survive in it, I might need to consider making my peace with them.
One of the "list" blogs I read is Marc and Angel Hack Life. It is a blog of lists containing the essential elements of the sort of life I want for myself. They read all the books I want to read, but don't have time for yet - to be fair, I have read some of the books they recommend, and the others are on request from the library or on Amazon's Wish List. The short end of that is: I hate lists but I like their lists. I find their lists useful, and not repressive. Although, I have to admit, I have struggled with some of the ideas they have shared over the years. I wasn't ready to hear them.
Today's leading photo is of a woman standing in front of a mirror. Her pose is reminiscent of Rosie the Riveter. On her hand and arm is the phrase, "Thanks. You've made me believe in personal power again."
My last post was a letter of gratitude to my STBX. I was asked if that was a true letter of gratitude, or if it was - in the Faulkner-ian sense of Southern gentility - really just bashing the STBX and couching it in terms of gratitude. And honestly, the idea had never occurred to me. I have spent the last chunk of time trying to suss out the reality of my emotions and motivations. Was I writing from a position of gratitude, or was I trying to bash?
This is important to me because I do want to be honest - one of the founding premises of this blog is about being honest and genuine, even if it is ugly. And I didn't really THINK I was being sarcastic, ugly, or manipulative - but I do want to be SURE because the person I think I am, the person I want to cultivate is an honest person.
Today's Marc and Angel post is about the 14 Rules for being YOU. Since I thought I was being honest and ME, I think that evaluating my previous post in light of these rules might be useful - I also reserve the right to be absolutely wrong.
- Get Your Priorities Straight - In twenty years I will be older than dirt. In twenty years, I want to be able to say I loved truly and honestly, with my whole heart, with compassion, and with forgiveness. I also want to be able to say that I did learn my lessons (eventually), and that I was able to teach my son how to love. I stayed married long after I should have left. I believed in that whole "better or worse, sickness and in health" thing. I believed in the sacredness of a promise made to my partner, in front of my family, my children, and my friends. I honestly thought it couldn't get any worse. I really thought that if I gave him the time he asked for, he would heal. I thought that if I worked on my own issues, that everything would be OK. I learned my lessons (see below). Am I still sad and hurt and disappointed? Yes. But I also learned from this experience, and that is what ultimately matters. With time and grace, perhaps it won't hurt as much.
- Take Full Responsibility for Your Goals: My goal in this life is to have a peaceful life. Limited drama. To have a life filled with friends and loved ones and to have a home where people want to come to share a meal and conversation. THAT is my idea of a good time. I dream of friends scattered by the miles and by the years gathered around my dinner table. I dream of laughter. To do that, I have to be comfortable in my own skin, and in my own home. I have to make choices out of genuine desire, not out of fear or to avoid conflict. In order to be in a position where I can do that without anxiety, I have to:
- Know Your Worth: For years I scrabbled for scraps of time and affection from my STBX. I was grateful for moments of time doled out to a peasant petitioner. I was treated like an option, an after thought - and I knew it. I didn't know how to say anything about it in a way that would get my needs met, or stop the behavior, or even how walk out of the situation. I reacted badly, and the hurt and loneliness and confusion all came out sideways. "When someone treats you like you’re just one of many options, help them narrow their choice by removing yourself from the equation."
- Choose the Right Perspective: This is about where I started gaining clarity with my original pondering. I could be angry and bitter with the STBX. I could list out all the ways he has harmed me and post them all on the Internet for the world to see. He, in fact, invited me to do so - even suggested that I call him out by name. I have every right to do so. My attorney was rather stunned that I insisted on a 'no-fault' divorce. There were enough pictures, testimony, and evidence to file for four out of the ten grounds for 'fault' divorce in our state. There is a lot of room for revenge - and our society would not even bat an eye if I were to pursue any of it. In fact, I get a hell of a lot of grief for NOT being vengeful. But, it all comes down to perspective. I understand that adultery is a symptom of greater issues in a relationship - which is why I was/am willing to forgive it. Fix the bigger issues, and adultery isn't an issue any more. I could blast the STBX from now until the cows come home - publicly - and it still wouldn't change anything. I am hurt. I am sad. I am disappointed. I feel betrayed - I was betrayed. He isn't willing to work on our issues, to fix our problems, or even talk to me about them. So, I could look for the positives in this incredibly horrible situation, and learn from it - or - I could poison myself. I chose A. I'm done with B.
- Don't Let Your Old Problems Punish Your Dreams: Another thing I detest is direct quotations - just getting that out there - especially since this will make two direct quotations in one post: "Learn to let go of things you can’t control. The next time you’re tempted to rant about a situation that you think ended unfairly, remind yourself of this: You’ll never kill off your anger by beating the story to death. So close your mouth, unclench your fists, and redirect your thoughts.When left untended, the anger will slowly wither, and you’ll be left to live in peace as you grow toward a better future." Um... yeah.. that pretty much nailed that gratitude v. bash coffin shut.
- Choose Things that Truly Matter: It is true that filing for a divorce left me in a position of financial hardship. I am basically broke, and will be jobless, homeless, and husbandless for the first time in 16 years in about two weeks. It was incredibly hard to realize I am ::ahem:: almost as old as dirt, and I am going to have to move in with my mother to support my son until I can find work. It is scary as hell to be without health insurance. I am terrified to be without my STBX. (Please remember, gentle readers, despite our differences, I do love the SOB. He was my best friend and I still catch myself wanting to share things with him. I have to keep reminding myself that we don't have that kind of relationship anymore and I *miss* him.) ::straightening spine:: What matters is being treated like I matter, like I have worth, like I am a human being. By staying in that situation, I was teaching my son it was OK to let other people treat him like dirt - and that to grovel for someone's love was normal. I was teaching my son it was OK to stay with someone who disrespected him. I was teaching my son that comfort and security could be bought. I was teaching my son that raging was an appropriate way of silencing opposition, and that fear was an OK way to manage relationships. That makes my asshole pucker. I AM terrified. I am scared to death. I have to choose what really matters though.
- Love YOU: This one I struggle with. Period. I am learning though.
- Accept your Strengths and Weaknesses: I spent years comparing myself to the porn on my STBX's desk, with the pictures he would share with me, with the women he would point out. (Admittedly, I thought they were hot too - I just took the next step and thought - well, shit. I don't look like that. If he finds them hot, who is he thinking about when we make love?) I spent years comparing myself to socially constructed ideas of "good mothers" and "good wives" and "good people." Hell, I even went through several months of comparing myself to the STBX's mistress. Fuck that. I have above average smarts. I can knit a freaking sweater and socks. I read like a boss. I teach. I can cook circles around most people I know. I have survived child abuse, domestic violence, emotional abuse, chronic neglect, abandonment, adultery, gossip, and hate. Fuck all y'all. I'm fabulous, bitch!
- Stand up for You: Three direct quotations in a post really makes me want to vomit... "Don’t judge me until you know me, don’t underestimate me until you challenge me, and don’t talk about me until you’ve talked to me." Yeah. That really is enough said. One of the things that hurts the most about the collapse of my marriage is that my STBX would talk to his mistress about me, and not to me about me. She doesn't know me from Adam's house cat - well, slightly more than that - she was one of my instructors in college. But, really what can you know of someone from some business letter writing samples? He didn't take the time to know me either. The me that he thinks/thought I was/am - was all in his head - a self-recursive feedback loop fueled and supported by someone equally as clueless. That makes it all imaginary. I was tried, convicted, and sentenced based on faulty thinking and imagination. O_o Yeah.... just realized that one.
- Learn From Others and Move on When you Must and
- Be Honest in your Relationships are very similar: I stayed until I couldn't. Giving up on my marriage was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. Giving up on him is awful. I understand it is healthy - but I still feel guilty and horrible. I told the Grandmother I wouldn't. I shouldn't have made a promise like that to her. I could have stayed another few months until he filed - but for all the reasons I outlined in the other post - I couldn't. It wouldn't have been honest. I love his family (with one notable exception...) and the thought of not seeing them again is so incredibly sad for me. I think that is the second meanest thing about his choices. The first was leading me on, and promising false hope. So, ultimately, I couldn't stay.
- Get Comfortable with Being Uncomfortable: Throughout this whole experience, I have had the support of some amazing people who supported me in my decision to stay and fight for my marriage when that was my choice, and the same people supported me in my decision to leave. One of them, after a particularly difficult day, sent me the text of J.K. Rowling's Commencement Address to the 2008 Graduating Class at Harvard. Yeah - Jobless, homeless, husbandless - pretty much rock bottom. But, I have friends who love me, and family that will support me until I can put my life back together. The only place to go once you hit bedrock, is back up. Still terrified. Still not sure how I am going to do this. But - my greatest fears have been realized, and I am still alive.
- Be Who You Were Born to Be: I was born to be loved and to love myself. I was born to celebrate life in all the quirky ways that I enjoy life. I was born because two people loved each other. I was wanted. I am someone's little girl. I understand that not all people can say that. And I cherish knowing that I was wanted and loved. I think that my STBX loved me in the best way he could love me. It doesn't excuse his behavior. It doesn't justify a single one of his hurtful choices. It doesn't make any of it OK. It also doesn't define who I am. I sacrificed my values for a while. I sacrificed myself. I was not being who I was born to be. Done with that.
- Never Give up on You: A friend told me today that she thought I was brave. She has every confidence I will be able to come through this experience with the flames of a Phoenix rising from the ashes. I told her I was scared, and that I am reluctant to share that with other people because I am also scared they will use it against me to hurt me. She quoted Nelson Mandela to me (Four!!! AGH!! FOUR!!) "I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph of fear over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear." I am scared. And I am still doing what I know is the right thing to do. I am not where I want to be in life. I still hurt, and I'm not in a place where I can let go of that yet. I still miss him, and one day - I won't anymore. I will get to a point where I am OK with all of this. I will get to a point where I can trust other people again. I may not have another partner in this life - the wound is that deep, but I do have friends and companions. I won't be alone.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Writing to Heal
I did a writing exercise this week. The assignment was to write a letter to my soon-to-be-ex-husband (STBX) thanking him for the things I have learned from this experience.
That was a challenging bit of writing. It would be easier to rant and rave and blame and dissolve into self-pity. After all, when you take a critical look at the last ten years, if any one deserves a nervous breakdown, it is me. And I'm not... well, not yet. I have one scheduled for next month when I am homeless and jobless and husbandless and doing the single-mom thing full time.
Dear STBX,
Thank you for the last ten years of my life. This time has not been wasted nor in vain. I have learned several valuable lessons from this experience, and I would like to share with you my gratitude.
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to finally learn the difference between self-esteem and self-compassion. I had no self-esteem during and after my relationship with you. It showed in my lack of self-respect and unhealthful boundaries. I kept giving and accommodating in the hope that if I just sacrificed a little bit more of myself, I would be worth your notice, your time, your affection. I died inside when you would disagree with me and instead of talking about it, you would use silence to hurt me. I blamed myself for your rage and screaming and belittling behavior, because you said I left you no choice and I believed you. Self-compassion has taught me that I can only do what I can do when I can do it, and that I have to love myself first, and respect myself. This gives me the strength of character to finally tell you what you are doing is wrong, and that I will no longer sacrifice my values and character to help you feel comfortable with your choices. My self-compassion is not affected by your infidelity, your lies, or your cruelty. It is the one thing you cannot take away from me. It it my right as a Child of God to be treated with dignity and respect, and by all that is holy, I will fight for that right and demand it from all and sundry - because I deserve it.
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to truly understand there is a difference between what people perceive of an experience and my lived reality. One of the things you throw in my face every time we fight is that I have not finished my Master's degree yet, and you have. And that you started after I did. You present this as evidence of some personal flaw that reflects a defect in my character. I took your barbs and accusations as truth until lately. I thought you were right to continually tear me down. And then my mother helped me understand the truth: I have been working two adjunct faculty positions with an average of 18 to 20 hours a term for the last five years. I have adjusted to having my life ripped apart by infidelity, lies, and abuse. I have kept my house clean, my child fed, functioning, and thriving. I have worked on my thesis, but admittedly it was not a priority. Survival was. I have been patient with your affair(s?), believing you when you said you needed time and space, and living every day with the expectation that I would be handed divorce papers if I didn't do what you wanted, or I would be kicked out of my home, or there would be another argument that would leave me suicidal for weeks on end.
You may feel entitled to pass whatever judgment you wish on my completing or not completing my thesis. It is not my concern. I know the reality of my life, and it doesn't match with your perception. My thesis wasn't finished on your time schedule because I had to focus on other things to survive. I did not have the luxury of a supportive partner, or someone who was willing to take over 90% of my childcare responsibilities. I did the best I could do with what I could do, and looking back, I still don't see where I could - realistically - make choices different than the ones I made.
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to explore the depth of my character. I cheated on my first husband with you. I could (and did) justify my behavior by saying my marriage was over, that I just needed to pay for the divorce. It doesn't change the fact that the behavior was wrong. I hated how my behavior made me feel. I went to Confession. I confessed to and apologized to my ex-husband. And then I made damn sure the situation could never happen again. I couldn't really put into words my experience until last week when one of my students spoke on character. She said, "People are stupid. They make mistakes and poor choices. It is part of being human. That isn't someone's character. People's character is revealed after they mess up." I made sure that I never put myself in a situation where my fidelity could be questioned. You were that important to me. Even when meeting a male friend for the first time in twenty years, I made damn sure we stayed in the overcrowded food court at the convention center. I even cancelled a feis trip because I realized there might be even a hint of impropriety. I wasn't willing to risk our relationship on even the perception of infidelity. That is the truth of my character.
I would like to thank you for showing me what true disrespect looks like so I can avoid it in the future. Having me house sit while you take your mistress out of town to a convention is disrespectful. Having your mistress there when I drop our son off for visitation, is disrespectful. Taking your mistress to a holiday party where I have also been invited is disrespectful. Planning to bring your mistress to your son's performance while I am there is disrespectful. Bringing your mistress to my house is disrespectful. Telling me of the horrible names you call me, your tendency to bad mouth me, and that you allow your mistress to badmouth me, is disrespectful. Having unprotected sex with me while having an affair with her is disrespectful. And just so you know - yes, I did finally figure out that you were hitting me up for sex after spending the weekend with her last month.
Mostly, I want to thank you for teaching me self-respect and self-love. I filed for divorce because you were very clear there was nothing to discuss. You did not give marital counseling an honest try, because you were already seeing your mistress. You didn't see the point of divorce counseling. You played Russian roulette with my life by having unprotected sex with me and exposing me to whatever you and your mistress have been exposed to AND dismissed your behavior as being appropriate because of your gender. I could choose to stay married to you until you decided to file - the whole time with the threat of divorce over my head if I didn't behave and do what you wanted. I chose to stop the insanity. I could choose to stay married to you for health insurance, but the stress of trying to second-guess your behavior was killing me. I chose to stop playing the game. I could stay and continue to subject myself to periodic interrogations about how I spent money or managed my finances. I chose to walk away. I could stay - knowing you were posting pictures of your affair on Facebook, openly taking her around town, and introducing her to our friends, or I could stop the humiliation of my husband openly having an affair. I chose me over you. I chose my self-respect and dignity over you.
Most of all, I want to thank you for teaching me that I do have the capacity for love. Real love. Real commitment. Real happiness. I know how to work on myself, and love myself, and be ok with myself. I hurt right now. I feel angry and betrayed and I grieve over the things that might have been - because I did love you, and love like that isn't something that is found every day. I still don't want a divorce. I know a divorce is the most healthful choice for me and for my son, and ultimately for you. I know that a divorce is the right choice to make. I still miss my husband - or at least the idea of him. I miss the security of trusting someone completely. I miss my home - my cat is buried in the yard, and our kids planted the tree in the front yard. I miss our rituals - I am still not sure how I am going to watch Dr. Who this season. Hell, some days I miss your habit of picking your toenails on the couch - only very occasionally though. It grossed me the hell out, and that is when I know I am having a pretty rough day, and need to be exceptionally gentle with myself.
Thank you for teaching me how to forgive. I have learned that forgiveness isn't a 'once and done' sort of thing. Sometimes I have to forgive you multiple times a minute. But I have also learned that forgiveness has exactly zero to do with you. It is about me, and not letting the weight of your choices and character weigh me down. I was serious when I said I could forgive the infidelity, the screaming and abuse (as long as you agreed to therapy), and the deception. You would have to ask. And I don't even know how to begin trusting you again. But I can and do forgive you.
Ultimately, thank you for giving me the opportunity to be tested by fire. I think I am a better person because of this experience. I have more patience for the things that need patience, and less tolerance for bull shit and disrespect. I have developed the capacity for love and forgiveness and compassion. I also know that your infidelity was your choice. A choice that had nothing to do with me. It is not my fault, and not my responsibility.
Thank you for the circumstances that made me learn to be a grownup. I look forward to spending the rest of my life figuring out who this grownup is. I sincerely wish you the best. May your bedside nurse never be named Bertha.
Your loving, soon-to-be-ex-wife.
That was a challenging bit of writing. It would be easier to rant and rave and blame and dissolve into self-pity. After all, when you take a critical look at the last ten years, if any one deserves a nervous breakdown, it is me. And I'm not... well, not yet. I have one scheduled for next month when I am homeless and jobless and husbandless and doing the single-mom thing full time.
Dear STBX,
Thank you for the last ten years of my life. This time has not been wasted nor in vain. I have learned several valuable lessons from this experience, and I would like to share with you my gratitude.
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to finally learn the difference between self-esteem and self-compassion. I had no self-esteem during and after my relationship with you. It showed in my lack of self-respect and unhealthful boundaries. I kept giving and accommodating in the hope that if I just sacrificed a little bit more of myself, I would be worth your notice, your time, your affection. I died inside when you would disagree with me and instead of talking about it, you would use silence to hurt me. I blamed myself for your rage and screaming and belittling behavior, because you said I left you no choice and I believed you. Self-compassion has taught me that I can only do what I can do when I can do it, and that I have to love myself first, and respect myself. This gives me the strength of character to finally tell you what you are doing is wrong, and that I will no longer sacrifice my values and character to help you feel comfortable with your choices. My self-compassion is not affected by your infidelity, your lies, or your cruelty. It is the one thing you cannot take away from me. It it my right as a Child of God to be treated with dignity and respect, and by all that is holy, I will fight for that right and demand it from all and sundry - because I deserve it.
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to truly understand there is a difference between what people perceive of an experience and my lived reality. One of the things you throw in my face every time we fight is that I have not finished my Master's degree yet, and you have. And that you started after I did. You present this as evidence of some personal flaw that reflects a defect in my character. I took your barbs and accusations as truth until lately. I thought you were right to continually tear me down. And then my mother helped me understand the truth: I have been working two adjunct faculty positions with an average of 18 to 20 hours a term for the last five years. I have adjusted to having my life ripped apart by infidelity, lies, and abuse. I have kept my house clean, my child fed, functioning, and thriving. I have worked on my thesis, but admittedly it was not a priority. Survival was. I have been patient with your affair(s?), believing you when you said you needed time and space, and living every day with the expectation that I would be handed divorce papers if I didn't do what you wanted, or I would be kicked out of my home, or there would be another argument that would leave me suicidal for weeks on end.
You may feel entitled to pass whatever judgment you wish on my completing or not completing my thesis. It is not my concern. I know the reality of my life, and it doesn't match with your perception. My thesis wasn't finished on your time schedule because I had to focus on other things to survive. I did not have the luxury of a supportive partner, or someone who was willing to take over 90% of my childcare responsibilities. I did the best I could do with what I could do, and looking back, I still don't see where I could - realistically - make choices different than the ones I made.
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to explore the depth of my character. I cheated on my first husband with you. I could (and did) justify my behavior by saying my marriage was over, that I just needed to pay for the divorce. It doesn't change the fact that the behavior was wrong. I hated how my behavior made me feel. I went to Confession. I confessed to and apologized to my ex-husband. And then I made damn sure the situation could never happen again. I couldn't really put into words my experience until last week when one of my students spoke on character. She said, "People are stupid. They make mistakes and poor choices. It is part of being human. That isn't someone's character. People's character is revealed after they mess up." I made sure that I never put myself in a situation where my fidelity could be questioned. You were that important to me. Even when meeting a male friend for the first time in twenty years, I made damn sure we stayed in the overcrowded food court at the convention center. I even cancelled a feis trip because I realized there might be even a hint of impropriety. I wasn't willing to risk our relationship on even the perception of infidelity. That is the truth of my character.
I would like to thank you for showing me what true disrespect looks like so I can avoid it in the future. Having me house sit while you take your mistress out of town to a convention is disrespectful. Having your mistress there when I drop our son off for visitation, is disrespectful. Taking your mistress to a holiday party where I have also been invited is disrespectful. Planning to bring your mistress to your son's performance while I am there is disrespectful. Bringing your mistress to my house is disrespectful. Telling me of the horrible names you call me, your tendency to bad mouth me, and that you allow your mistress to badmouth me, is disrespectful. Having unprotected sex with me while having an affair with her is disrespectful. And just so you know - yes, I did finally figure out that you were hitting me up for sex after spending the weekend with her last month.
Mostly, I want to thank you for teaching me self-respect and self-love. I filed for divorce because you were very clear there was nothing to discuss. You did not give marital counseling an honest try, because you were already seeing your mistress. You didn't see the point of divorce counseling. You played Russian roulette with my life by having unprotected sex with me and exposing me to whatever you and your mistress have been exposed to AND dismissed your behavior as being appropriate because of your gender. I could choose to stay married to you until you decided to file - the whole time with the threat of divorce over my head if I didn't behave and do what you wanted. I chose to stop the insanity. I could choose to stay married to you for health insurance, but the stress of trying to second-guess your behavior was killing me. I chose to stop playing the game. I could stay and continue to subject myself to periodic interrogations about how I spent money or managed my finances. I chose to walk away. I could stay - knowing you were posting pictures of your affair on Facebook, openly taking her around town, and introducing her to our friends, or I could stop the humiliation of my husband openly having an affair. I chose me over you. I chose my self-respect and dignity over you.
Most of all, I want to thank you for teaching me that I do have the capacity for love. Real love. Real commitment. Real happiness. I know how to work on myself, and love myself, and be ok with myself. I hurt right now. I feel angry and betrayed and I grieve over the things that might have been - because I did love you, and love like that isn't something that is found every day. I still don't want a divorce. I know a divorce is the most healthful choice for me and for my son, and ultimately for you. I know that a divorce is the right choice to make. I still miss my husband - or at least the idea of him. I miss the security of trusting someone completely. I miss my home - my cat is buried in the yard, and our kids planted the tree in the front yard. I miss our rituals - I am still not sure how I am going to watch Dr. Who this season. Hell, some days I miss your habit of picking your toenails on the couch - only very occasionally though. It grossed me the hell out, and that is when I know I am having a pretty rough day, and need to be exceptionally gentle with myself.
Thank you for teaching me how to forgive. I have learned that forgiveness isn't a 'once and done' sort of thing. Sometimes I have to forgive you multiple times a minute. But I have also learned that forgiveness has exactly zero to do with you. It is about me, and not letting the weight of your choices and character weigh me down. I was serious when I said I could forgive the infidelity, the screaming and abuse (as long as you agreed to therapy), and the deception. You would have to ask. And I don't even know how to begin trusting you again. But I can and do forgive you.
Ultimately, thank you for giving me the opportunity to be tested by fire. I think I am a better person because of this experience. I have more patience for the things that need patience, and less tolerance for bull shit and disrespect. I have developed the capacity for love and forgiveness and compassion. I also know that your infidelity was your choice. A choice that had nothing to do with me. It is not my fault, and not my responsibility.
Thank you for the circumstances that made me learn to be a grownup. I look forward to spending the rest of my life figuring out who this grownup is. I sincerely wish you the best. May your bedside nurse never be named Bertha.
Your loving, soon-to-be-ex-wife.
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