Adventures in Stepford
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Open House
Our house is for sale.

Life in Stepford has taken a sharp right turn since we last chatted.

Probably not what you're imagining, I would venture to guess.

This development is actually a good one, although the transition is bumpy at present.

Most of  what transpired is The Husband's story to tell, and I still (foolishly? optimistically?)  hope that one day he will relay the story to you himself.  

But since that is not an option at this point, the simplest news is: he has a job after 2 1/2 years without one; located in Clean Slate, miles away from Stepford.  

He's already there working, has been for two months; I'm back here hoping this house will sell before the next Olympic games in 2012.  

He's home on weekends; I work weekends.  You do the math.

We actually get along surprisingly well over phone, text, and email ... so there's a purpose in this separation-without-a-legal-separation dance, I crazily hope.

And here's the thing. 

Our house shows well. 

It is such a pretty place:  not too big, clean lines, fresh flowers, no clutter (all packed away), happy family photos, nicely decorated (I give ups to the Husband for that, he's a natural), super nice neighborhood, thick woods, deer & fawns, apple trees, ducks on the pond, yet close to town, super school district, yaddayaddayadda. 

Other realtors were jealous, stating they wished it was their listing. No, really. It's a sweet house. 

BUT.

Like the wolf in sheep's clothing, it's our Ground Zero.

If I were looking at my house as a buyer, I would walk through (scarily-clean-for-unannounced-realtors-) rooms with a twinge of envy.  I know me.  

I would be so covetous of the family that lived in this house; their children are gorgeous, the colors on the wall are perfect, the hardwood is pretty, the views are sweet. 

They must be such a happy family, I would think. They are living the perfect life. 

And I would want the kind of life that this home looks like it contains.

I would probably make an offer, subconsciously hoping that the good vibes would stay in the tile caulking and emanate to my life should I, too, live here in Shangri-La.

And that would be a lie; I would have bought into appearances. Like we all do.

We look good, therefore maybe we can stretch that performance into actually being good. As if that magical thinking works. What am I, Eight?

I still struggle with pirouetting for the masses. Even after all this destruction and hard-won self awareness. For people who don't even matter, I worried that they consider me 'put together'. You do it too, right? 

And on the other side of the picket fence, I totally buy-in to everyone else's 'presentation'.  Are you kidding? I rarely, if ever, entertain much thought that things aren't what they appear in other people's homes. I mean, not until presented with concrete evidence. 

I always presume other couples are happy, affectionate, and that the wife knows what the hell she's doing in her role... you know, that other couples can't possibly be as far off the rails as we have been. 

Surely, she never agonizes in the anniversary card aisle at Hallmark. Surely her mouth isn't dry from preventing the escape of an anguished half-sob whilst perusing the "For The One I Love" column of greeting cards

Because she can't possibly buy any of them.

Because they don't use such words between them anymore. 

Yet she must buy a card.

Surely this other wife reads such cards with ease.  The cards that wildly celebrate the years of love, support, no regrets, friendship, fun, and hot sex with tender verses and images. Surely she chooses her "For My Husband" card without any of the chest pressure that resembles a cardiac event.   She is without the guilt of having to carefully scrutinize every phrase. 

She is without the ache of passing over a plethora of sentiments that are absolutely off limits between them.


But the house shows well.

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posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 10:44 AM   4 comments
Monday, March 17, 2008
Pause in the yadda yadda yadda
Oh, lookie. This is a draft from last month I worked on but never posted, which says basically the same thing about the gabbing on and on thing I just posted a minute ago. Hmm. It's not finished, and I've revised some of my thinking, but I'll throw it out here for general discussion.


I've been quiet for a bit, just stopped talktalktalk-ing about my life to the world at large (well, ya'll. and my counselor. and accountability partner. and phone-a-friend lay counselor. I just got sick of blahblahblahing. It happens).

I just sort of hid away and tried to just be for a bit. That's hard too, b/c my judgment is wonky (I think) without people to bounce things off of, and yet no one can really know my life except God, me, and The Husband. And the kidlets, inasmuch as they can know.

I read somewhere (and may have posted this before) about living with pain in your life, that you just have to be still sometimes because if you flail around in it, the blades of pain will only cut deeper. I am a master flailer; my emotions have had me spinning around for years in my pain, just letting the blades do more damage.

So I stopped for a bit. And am regrouping.

And I am probably having some kind of annotated mid-life crisis, because I hated turning 40 last year. It really doesn't matter that I don't look 40, and co-workers/friends are constantly shocked that I am this age. I hate being 40 and feeling trapped and stuck and unhappy and regretful of most of my life. I feel gypped, I told God the other day. No surprise to Him, but I'm attempting to be more honest with Him about the Ugly.

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posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 10:14 AM   4 comments
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Behind the Facade
As ya'll may have noticed, I'm not posting every day - or even close to it - like I was when I first started this blog. Sometimes, I wonder if it's been toxic to my Real Life to overthink all this garbage. (Although over-thinking is certainly not limited to my writing here, nosiree! I analyze my existence like a 3rd party narrator in my brain all the freaking TIME!). I've only recently made some effort to stop the Narrator/Analyzer in my head at times. Long road, that. It's hardwired in me. Like my own version of The Truman Show, starring Moi.

From some of the comments/concern expressed (and thanks for them), I also wanted to clarify that this blog is a dumping ground of my inner black rot, and reading this blog only and not knowing the rest of me (which is 99.8% of ya'll I imagine), would give the impression that I should be placed in a facility to prevent harm to myself and others. Or to just be slapped around and told to Quit The Whining, For Pete's Sake. I can see that.

If you saw the other 95% of me in a casual setting, or at work, or as my friend, you would probably be stunned to realize the extent of inner sludge I dump here as part of the girl you have known. Not that everything is entirely separated, but you realize my point, yes? OMGosh, at work the other day we were talking about a former coworker who was really negative in general, and I mentioned how hard it is for me to be around that kind of person [because: I am a sponge, absorbing the emotions of others] and someone said, "That's because you are such a happy, upbeat person" and I laughed the laugh of the embittered soul and said, "That is such a crock of sh!t"

So I wanted to at least pop in and say hello.

Life in Stepford is a freefall right now, and I'm trying to not fight it. To just fall, feel the scary stuff, and trust that God will catch me before I Splat. That sh!t is HARD, ya'll. I am the first to admit I do not do this well, or consistently. I default to 'it's going to be all right' happy-ending scenarios in my head, just to calm my inner panic when things are scary. I even dream life as I wish it to be, and wake up absorbing that faux 'Life's Okay' into my psyche. And you know, sometimes it's not going to be all right (in the short term), and I have to quit fooling myself in order to gain some false sense of control of the situation. I fake myself out, I've realized, so I don't have a complete panic attack and sit in a corner eating my hair.

At this rate, I'll have my life together by the fourth of Never.

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posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 6:27 PM   1 comments
Monday, October 01, 2007
Fire Up a Colortini
Fire up a colortini, sit back, relax, and watch the pictures, now, as they fly through the air.


-broadcaster Tom Snyder,1935-2007



Wheeee! Lots of sh!t flying through the air.

Sure enough, I open my mouth and satan sees where to get me. Fcuker. The engine noise has been so loud in the last week, I just want to lay down and give up. He who is in me is greater, He who is in me is greater, He who is in me....

I am weary of this seesaw I live on. Hope - and change, and then backsliding and nothing good. Fall is in the air ...literally.

Ya'll, truly. I'm ashamed to post anymore. I cannot imagine what a fcuking SNORE it is to read 'hey, big insight' and then 'hey, i still suck'. I hate being me, and then every once in a while I don't. I keep pushing this elephant up the stairs, I keep blowing it, yet I keep having hope. Many days, I honestly do not know why, other than God won't let me quit completely. And, lucky you, are stuck on the ride with me.

I also feel like I'm giving God a bad rap. Not like I'm some big influence or He can't take it, but I keep saying Yay God about stuff that happens, thinking I'm on the upswing, giving Him credit. And then BOOM, I crash, my inner garbage coming out from underneath the carpet where I've apparently swept it, and it kind of makes God look bad to those of you who don't know Him well.

I am not representing Him worth a sh!t. This is not God's fault, it's mine. And looking back over old posts from last fall/winter, some of my world is different and yet much of my Insight remains un-acted-upon. Again, that's my fault. Emotional impotence.

I have seen changes in me, and I write those first to encourage myself. The most positive changes have been with my children. I have been, in the past, a scary horrible no-good parent. Selfish, downright mean, and easily irritated by small people who were not intentionally doing me harm.

Every parent struggles with pieces of this puzzle, but my struggles were more than sleep-deprivation and normal stress. There was a black place inside me, still is, that puts a shield between myself and my family. Cannot put words on it, but it was ugly with the people who least deserved it. And rose up in a swift tsunami-type fashion when it came.

If nothing else, that change in me is Real. And I weep, that deep-down painful sorrow of regret, when I think back. I would give anything, anything to rewind -and tape over- that part of my movie.

I look back in my rearview mirror with a clarity that I don't have in The Moment (or The Month, or The Year). Honestly, I feel like I'm several years behind myself. Like now, for instance. I'm learning much about me that would have SO better served me two years ago. But it's not enough to know it now, because such damage was done in the interim that I need bigger forces than Two-years-ago-Insight. Capice?

Like bringing in FEMA way too late for Katrina; would have been beneficial on the ground before landfall, not playing catch-up in its wake. Bigger forces (military, etc) were needed in the aftermath - and even then, it was impossible to 'fix'. Granted, hindsight and all. Who can know what is needed ahead of time, or how much destruction we'll find ourselves in, etc. But really, ya'll. You know what I'm saying? I am just now getting the FEMA funds in, far too late for where the circumstances are.

There is a deep piece of my heart that swings in a free fall, scared and frightened. It looks for a place to grab onto something safe, but chooses people & circumstances to validate me. Especially my husband: please love me, please like me, please find me to be good, please please please.

Nothing 'sticks' to my heart, it's like Teflon. God sees me as I really am: filthy rags. BUT. He also sees me through the blood as I am in Jesus, worthy of love. Why can't that stick to me?

I wander through life like a Wemmick, letting people put their gold stars or red dots on me as they choose. Even those don't stick: and not for the good reason in the story, but because the ways of other-seeking validation don't work.

I'm no fool. I am actually a smart person, good student, quick study. But not where the rubber meets the road obviously. I'm an asset to most situations - outside of my own home. For the most part, I like who I am with everyone else in my world. I've learned to be a better friend to people, really be interested in them and concerned for their wellbeing, I accept responsibility for dropping the ball - personally with friends, or professionally with coworkers. Quickly. I don't need to be reminded or prompted for that.

At home I do. It has taken the better part of three years for me to to step around the screen of My Defensiveness with my children - my own children, for fcuk's sake - and apologize when necessary. My husband had to call me out, listen to me deflect like a petulant teenager, and finally, I would say I was sorry about something to my own child. I am sick at myself when I think of it all. This was not some isolated incident; it happened often.

On the thank-you-Jesus flipside, I can now spot when it happens without a Proctor/Chaperon/Husband present and apologize immediately to my children, with a non-deflecting explanation. Even more than half the time (praise God), I can see it coming and stop the Bad in a pre-emptive strike, completely foregoing the need for apology and repentance. Am I making any sense? she asks the invisible internet.

But I can do none of these things with my own husband. There have been very itty-bitty-small, too-little-too-late FEMA-type improvements, but again, they are small in proportion to where we are -and where I need to be with this stronghold. I need to be down the road a-piece, people. And I don't move. Much. WTF?

I do not, without great wailing/gnashing of teeth- if ever - say "you're right, i'm wrong" right off the bat. I imagine myself being able to do it, but when we arrive at an opportunity: WALL. Fear. Defense. And it's only with my spouse. I will own up to anything, anywhere. Elsewhere. Here online, at work, with my counselor - about the very thing my husband has told me. I can't think of anywhere else that I do NOT eat my sandwich I made.

But to his face, in the moment? I am mute, with my insides contorting. Dying to connect in a real way, yet placing a firm wedge between us that grows larger with each conversation: But that's not what I meant, I never said that, I didn't do that. Because, as he so aptly puts it, if I am never wrong he is the one who always must be. That's not relational balance, nor is it fair. Dammit, I am NOT this person. I'm not. But here I am, having been her for the better part of my life.

This screams "Trouble with Authority Males over Me", as there is only him really. And God. I fool myself that I'm cool with God, just not my husband. I'm probably not cool with either of them. This is something else my husband has suggested. And, like all his points, I cannot come to grips with in his presence, yet mull it over afterwards. He thinks I don't believe anything he mentions or insights, but that's not it.

I've been on my knees about this problem, and others, and continue to be. And will continue to be, until He changes me or I die. I can't do this alone. I crave relationship, yet am so damaged. The area of Relationship is where my damage was done initially (childhood/innocence/trust betrayed, etc). Why do you think it's hard for me to even trust God, a heavenly Father, when parental relationship was so perverted in my reality.

I have no excuses: yes, my past is why I've made all these fortresses to my heart, but I no longer live in a battlefield. I should not function like I do, to the detriment of everything I ever wanted. And years behind the learning curve.

I see through a lens of competition with my husband. I want to be Good Enough, I think he's a Better Person, I reflexively feel like a Loser and/or Belittle him in some way. Not always directly, just not Building Him Up or Supporting him. I pray for the know-how to Get Over Myself and my implanted fear that if he is a Happy, Successful human being, he'll want nothing from me or not need me. Or find someone Better. This is a whole different topic, but it all ties in to the tangle that is my black, ugly places. Fear is immobilizing

Ironically, or not so much, I do Build Him Up in my conversations about him. Just not to him. Like it's Giving In, or some such bullsh!t. Again, in my rational mind, I see all (well, most) of my wrong behaviors and know I need to change. Every opportunity reveals my failures.

He's really a good man, my husband. And I really want to be a good woman. In general, but especially in my home. I want to be well-matched with him. I want to be vulnerable with him, rest in him. I have likely never done that, at least not since we were very newly in love maybe. The undercurrent of Us is static and tension, as I manipulate all things in order to Keep Me Comfortable. I want victory where I've previously had nothing but defeat. But I want it on my own, not depending on him to validate me. And this is where it's so tricky. Where I fall down.

So easy to see it in your mind, especially after the fact, but impossible to implement. I am NOT the one person too fcuked up for God to fix. I just had to write that 'out loud' because I need the reminder. I'm too big for me to fix, but not for Him.

When "You're right, I'm wrong" about anything (but especially the big things) I pray to step over myself and tell him so. Within minutes, not hours, days or never. With God's help, and only through that, I will change.

From this day forward, I drag my sinful prideful self to a standing position and attempt to move forward. Again. Damn, ya'll.

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posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 8:02 AM   6 comments
Sunday, September 23, 2007
My hope is a habit
But what is happiness except the simple harmony between a man and the life he leads? ~Albert Camus





Want to tell ya'll what's been going on - yet scared if I open my big, fat, quick-to-claim-change mouth, it will go away. Aside: I felt the same way the day after I became a Christian, too. Everything felt very different, and I tiptoed around it for a while thinking it was some total bullsh!t placebo effect. Or if I acknowledged it in any way, it would dissipate immediately and prove me a gullible dumba$$. Trust no one. I am Fox Mulder.

I have been clinging, clinging, clinging to The Husband, or the Hope of him for-freaking-evah since the affair. Unhealthy and all that, well aware. Much advice given (and heard) to not focus on my spouse, but to look up to the Lord and put my faith in Him with the capital H, not the lowercase h. Concentrate on that at He will give you the desires of your heart, etc.

Heard it, understood it, totally agreed with it.

Still could not do it.

My emotions have been all tangled up with my husband's actions, what he was -or wasn't- doing. My validity as a woman, person, etc. all directly dependent on how my husband acted.

Trying to be pretty enough, helpful enough, or [fill in the blank] enough for him to [love me, be attracted to me, want me, need me] again. Fcuk. Who could stand that? He told me that I was measuring everything he did or said against how it Made Me Feel.

I kept wanting that to NOT be true.

But it was.

Even when I tried to disconnect from reacting to him, I did it in a p*ssed off kind of way. As if to Prove a Point, or Get Him To Notice. All about - still - his reactions, just from another angle.

I b*tched and moaned wherever I could ... on this blog, to my counselor, to a very few friends (who could still stand to hear me whine about my tribulations months later) ... all about how my marriage was difficult, how my life was SO HARD, how I needed, I wanted, I craved. Pity me, I am Suffering such Woe, I am the Victim of my Life.

Even while learning to see my own flaws in this relationship, and empathizing the state of my husband's painful path, I still did every action, thought, prayer, with the motivation of Getting What I Want.

So.



Long ago, when I was maybe 10 years old, I went to California and was able to ride in a glider one afternoon. Amazing. Gliders are unpowered airplanes, launched by an aerotow -or powered aircraft- tethered to the glider by a rope.

The tow plane pulls the glider until the desired altitude is reached and detaches the glider by disconnecting the rope. The glider then sails in the air until landing on its own.

While the tow plane is pulling the glider by the rope, you're surrounded by the loud engine roar and feeling the vibrations of the engined plane, as if you are riding in a regular small plane. And then, suddenly a loud pop occurs, and all noise and vibrations cease. Immediately. Everything is very, very quiet although your landscape has not changed a bit. It is unreal.

This is the perfect word picture for what happened to me about two weeks ago. My landscape has not changed one eensy iota, but suddenly everything changed inside my plane. It got quiet and smooth, and I didn't even do anything. I've been praying for change for, oh, years and on some random September day - in the middle of the day, no less - I untethered myself from the lead plane.

Or should I say God untethered me, because as we all know, in my own strength I am a glorious failure many times over.

He probably just got sick of watching me spin and spin, fiddling while Rome burns, tethered to the wrong thing. I imagine he reached out and said 'you know, this glider you are in is pretty cool, but you're not using it right. You're still hooked to someone else way past cruising altitude. No one else is supposed to be leading you at this point but me' and-

POP

end of freaked-out vibrations and jackhammer engine noise. Calm, eerie quiet and blue sky. While the landscape is exactly the same.

My external situation has not changed one whit, same marriage, kids, job, life, hardships. But my attitude has. Fo' reals, yo. Do I trust it? Are you kidding? Of course not (see: Fox Mulder), but I sure have enjoyed it. I got untethered from The Husband and found some sense of Who I Am, validation on my own, and a sense of worth in spite of all that jazz.

Oh my, this sounds all kind of self-helpy. Eww. I swear there will be no summer-camp karaoke version of "Friends are friends forever" sung at the end of this post.

The fact remains that this is a significant change in my thought pattern (regardless of how I've come off as so Enlightened or whatnot); no self-pity, no hovering around him, aching that he doesn't want to be around me or love me or whatever.

I've been most careful to hip-check my motivations and make sure I'm still respectful and kind to him, not detached in that Fcuk-you kind of way at ALL. I keep proofreading myself, thinking I will surely be bursting into flames emotionally at any point because I cannot ever keep up any change I'm trying to make.

So far, there are a few twinges of my old stuff ready to bubble up on occasion, but I look up and pray for focus and it generally works. Inside my glider is still quiet, although not as dramatic as when it first occurred (dammit). But I think God knows that Drama gets my attention and He swung the pendulum waaaaaaaay to the extreme initially so I would know it was Him (with the capital 'H') and pay attention.

I'm working be a team member in the household, because it's Right, not because it might please (lowercase-'h') him.

I'm just kind of 'over' him, but not in the break-up way.

Dealing with my FOO (family of origin) as a grown-up is crazyhard, especially in the aftermath of my mother's death, but I don't think much healing would be happening without it.

But still.

I've been dealing with sh!t for a looooooong time now, and I've still been tethered to the towplane. So why now? Mid-afternoon in mid-September? His ways are SO not our ways, but when He steps in: you know it.

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posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 5:17 AM   2 comments
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Getting the Script
I've been working on an update from Stepford since the 16th; still working the kinks out! Anyway, ran across this brilliantly-put thought from a Wise Internet Sage this a.m. and had to post it. I know that when some folks end up in affairs, they really feel that they've found the person who "gets them", as opposed to their spouse. (but they're just in the "velcro phase" of a relationship)


You have this script in your head of what the perfect spouse would do and say when you're down, when you're excited, or whatever, and when they don't follow the script, you feel lost and alone, like no one really "gets" you, least of all the one person who's supposed to "get" you like no one ever has before. Of course that happens quite a bit because they haven't seen the script.

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posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 3:15 AM   0 comments
Friday, September 14, 2007
Twisted up inside
I drafted this entry well over a month ago, and never got around to posting it. There are more changes internally and I'm currently not so twisted up, at least in different areas now, but it's worth putting out there as late as it is. I am taking Yoda's advice (see below):



Train yourself to let go... of everything you fear to lose. -yoda



This has been a tough time. It could be worse, mind you. Much, much worse. But it is what it is: tough for me.


My mother is unexpectedly dead, with many things unresolved between us.


My marriage is ... different from what each party desires from a marriage. Is that PC enough?


I came back from my mother's illness/death/funeral and immediately returned to work and the rest of my full-time life. I'm having the bare minimum of free time, and no time that's without the frantic undercurrent of you need to be doing x,y, and z. My time to process everything is jagged and haphazard. Which leads to random ambushes of grief and tears.


And, oddly enough, pain from the affair is back in spades. Hello? It was over a year ago, almost two in a few months. I think perhaps because it's a known pain, and one I can deal with -compared to the complex pain about my mother.


I also think satan is throwing me curve balls. Exhibit A: I have over 700 songs on my iPod, and what shows up on Shuffle mode for the last two days: twice? Fcuking Sarah McLachlan and Song for a Winter's Night. Twice. In two days. WTF. It's playing now as I type this. I really like that song, but she burned a CD for him with it and it is a flesh-eating, heart-squeezing pain to hear it lately. Dammit. This should be loooooong gone, but it has made a comeback. Just what I need. Thanks.


The crease between my eyebrows is more prominent each day; etched from worry and past pain revisited. I've considered cosmetic intervention, it's so disturbing to me lately.


I am craving -craving- physical comfort, and quit begging for it long ago. I miss the spontaneous touches, hand holding, etc. Not to mention hearing "I love you" - well over a year-and-a-half for that.


And that's not to say there's no other side of the coin. There is all the crap I brought to my marriage to make things difficult at best. When things are emotionally arduous for me, I close off and lob my visceral grenades. And I'm not talking about just your regular, garden-variety difficult: I can get crappy over small things that just make me uncomfortable -and therefore defensive.


My husband has said that I have not ever 'built him up as a man' - and still do not. That includes support and respect. And over time (and time, and time again), we are grown far apart on a most basic level. Trust. Connection. All that Must-Be-There stuff. How do you renovate a house upon an eroded foundation? Can you recreate a foundation after things are so far gone? I mean, yeah, yeah, God can do anything. But, will He?


So. I know a lot in theory, but fail to implement. Acknowledge issues and fault, yet hope that the mere act of acknowledgment will somehow fix things, or give me a 'pass'.

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posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 6:03 AM   3 comments
Friday, August 03, 2007
Miles Away
I know there's always something we have to go through,
that has some deeper meaning,
but right now I just can't say

I know there's gonna be a lesson somewhere,
I'm gonna think a lot about it later,
Right now I'm miles away

-Marc Cohn, Miles Away

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posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 7:16 PM   1 comments
Sunday, July 29, 2007
2007, or The Year I finally got an Easy Bake Oven
"to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from. -t.s. elliot

I don't know why I have always wanted an Easy Bake Oven. No clue. Perhaps having grown up on the Wrong Side of the Tracks, it was the appeal of the Glamour toy. It certainly wasn't the cooking aspect; I was such a latchkey kid that I did a lot of cooking for myself. Mainly noodles and Ragu, or Swanson's chicken pot pies -but still. I was not craving time in a kitchen.

But I never received one as a present. And frankly, I'm not even sure that I ever told anyone that I wanted one. Maybe it never was written on a Wish List for Santa, but I cannot remember a time when I didn't want one. Perhaps in my fantasy thinking, someone would just know and get me one.

Never happened.

I was not scarred for life by it. As ya'll know, there were plenty of real-life events in my childhood to scar my psyche. The lack of an Easy Bake was not one of them.

Eventually I became an adult(-ish) person. And I have mentioned over the years that I always wanted an EBO. I even remotely entertained the idea that perhaps one day a creative, thoughtful boyfriend (or later Husband) would buy one and put it under the tree for me. I never asked for one outright, but subconsciously I pictured a sweet man giving me the Easy Bake Oven I never had.

Ya'll, I am not right.

As an aside, I will tell you something wonderful that The Husband did years ago that resembled this little fantasy. There is a Dr. Seuss book called Happy Birthday To You! about a Seussical place called Katroo where on your birthday all kinds of amazing stuff is done for You! Just for You! I loved it as a child. So happy and celebratory, and completely opposite of my entire childhood. It's not a widely known book, and we found it one day in a bookstore. I waxed all kinds of nostalgic about it to my husband. The next year on my birthday, that book was one of my presents, complete with a sweet inscription from said husband. It's one of my favorite presents ever, and I read it to the children on their birthdays at bedtime. I doubt my husband even realizes how special that was for me.


Moving on!

So here I am back in Stepford after a horrific time dealing with my mother suddenly, unexpectedly in ICU and her subsequent death, and all these swirling emotions. One Saturday morning we go to a yard sale as a family. And what to my wandering eyes should appear? A brand new, still in the box, Easy Bake Oven.

Of course we bought it for my daughter you see, but my inner little girl was sated. A wrinkle in the fabric of my life was smoothed. I do not pretend to know why, it just was.

The next day we made a chocolate-frosted cake from the still-unopened mixes included in the box. I knew from licking the batter that it would be perfectly hideous, so I didn't even have a bite of the finished product. That wasn't the point, and I knew that going in. I just wanted to have one. And I do. How did an Easy Bake Oven get on my cosmic To Do List? I've no idea. But now I can check it off the list. And I'm oddly thankful. Go figure.

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posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 7:37 PM   3 comments
Thursday, June 14, 2007
While You're Waiting for the Hope Part...
...a little ditty about Forgiveness, that eternal pain in my ass.

I have been reading a book on and off since last summer. More off than on lately. That's how I roll, and I have several half-read books littering my life and nightstand. I am moving close to the end, pick it up here and there as I am led to do so.

Like tonight.

God's timing is so freaking perfect. That God, he's so clever.

We in Stepford had recently been having conversations about generational sins, and strongholds over us (read: Me), and not to get all Amityville Horror/Exorcist on you, the hold that satan has in various places in our (read: My) life. More on that in the Hope part, perhaps, but just to show you a glimpse of the view from here.

So I pop open to my bookmark and start reading. Italics are the author's words, and I jump around a bit in her text, but they should be credited solely to her (Sandra D. Wilson, Ph.D.), much of the emphases are mine.

Tonight's reading was a Relevant Trifecta: me as a child, me with my husband (and he with me), and me with my kids. Lots of things stirring around in my stew as I read.




[a client] realized that hurt people hurt people...

[on the misperception that forgiveness makes the incident/hurt become 'no big deal']:
On the contrary...sin is such a colossal 'big deal' that it needs to be forgiven. Excusing, minimizing, trivializing it won't work. It must be forgiven - not denied or discounted.

...even when we have sincerely chosen to forgive, we may need to settle for very limited reconciliation with some people. Their emotional problems or lifestyle choices may preclude anything more.

But even after sincere commitments [to forgive], we can be blown temporarily off course by painful memories or other violent emotional storms....It's important to remember that only God forgives perfectly. The rest of us have to keep working at it with continual recommitment.

...would an apology pay for a repeated betrayal of your trust? In fact, ask yourself, what could those [people] in your past possibly ever do to make up for what happened? In effect, they own a debt they can never repay.
Can you see the picture? There they are, standing in front of you with empty hands and pockets, utterly unable to pay for the past. And there you are facing a choice that will shape your future.

...forgiving is not merely difficult; it is humanly impossible. Forgiving is not natural to human beings. We are more in tune with 'an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth'. As a result many of us go through our lives and our relationships blind and toothless!
We blind and toothless Christians operate from a double standard when it comes to grace. We enjoy relating to God by grace but we insist on relating to others by law.

God is not playing games with us about forgiveness. He doesn't call us to forgive without supplying the power to do it

...our postsalvation sins may be the ones that haunt us most. Though we can't disappoint God (his expectations are always realistic), we can grieve Him. He knows how destructive the results of our sin will be in our lives and in the lives of others.

...[a client] learned that confessing her sins was no substitute for forsaking them....to "help" God in punishing her she had dropped out of ... activities that brought her joy.

...you may have confessed your sins...but have you confessed your complete forgiveness? ...But do you believe it? I mean, do you believe it for you?

It's true that I don't know how horrible your sin might be. But I know how great God's grace is. And I know that either "the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin" (I John 1:7) or God is a liar. 'All sin' includes even yours - and mine.



These words really spoke to me, and she specifically points to intergenerational forgiveness and sins, going on to talk about parenting and passing on the hurts, etc.

So.

Ya'll know. I need to forgive my mother. Again. And again. I need to forgive my husband. Again, and again. My husband needs to forgive me. Again, and again.

My children will learn that they need to forgive me. Again, and again. And I am breaking the cycle by ASKING THEM for forgiveness the minute I realize I've wronged them. In word, or tone, or deed. And, thank God, so far they always do.

That perpetual (yet, hopefully diminishing-) cycle of recommiting to forgive when we get temporarily derailed by painful memories or pissed-off-ness about being 'wronged' past or present. And to remember that it is temporary, because it was emotion-based. And, hello? Have you met me? I could go on a pro-am tour showcasing Emotional Rodeo Riding.

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posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 7:31 PM   1 comments
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Victim, Party of One, Your Table is Ready
Take this one when you have a cup of coffee and aren't otherwise in a hurry. Or skim it, whatever. It's long, and there's more but I owed you. Took a while to spit it out and spellcheck, so I'm a day late on the promise.

Things in Stepford had been moving along, only in that time passes. I made more stupid mistakes on the road to Real, as I'm going to do, but some of these were thoughtless and hurtful to my husband, again proving to him that I'm no safe place to put any investment of time, heart, affection, etc.

Like what, you ask? A few examples off the top of my head:

Mother's Day.
I found a pretty bunch of flowers for me in the kitchen, when really he didn't even have do that. I thanked him initially, but felt shortchanged later that day when we saw friends who had breakfast in bed, yadda yadda. Yeah, I was feeling unloved, that's how it works right now. We were also two-weeks post milestone birthday, which was so bad we will not speak of it. That's nobody else's burden but mine. That's just where we are; it is what it is. But I could've sucked that up. Did I? I didn't. I was quiet and withdrawn, most obviously down deep in the Poor-Me well, when I could have climbed out and shown my husband in a good light by describing being surprised by the pretty flowers I received. The sad-wife-vibe was picked up on by others outside our family. I once again projected my heartbreak all over the landscape, letting my feelings run the fcuking show, instead of seeing where I could step up. I didn't protect the Partnership.

Unauthorized Disclosure I.
I mentioned our financial situation to the one couple we still have as friends, who know nothing about our inner workings. Nothing. That is an anomaly in Stepford. Or at least that's how it feels, and perception being reality and all that, there you are. Needless to say, we like them, and I think we like how they see us. How we should/could be, bits of who we used to be long ago. I see some things in them as a couple I would like to shoot for. Anyway, they seem normal to us in a way that we seriously crave Normal. So at some point, I said something to the wife about my inlaws funding some necessities lately, who told her husband, who brought it up to my husband, who felt blindsided, betrayed, and infuriated that I would portray us (read: me) as hurting victims. Had we been hanging this information out for public view, that would be one thing. But finances are sensitive issues here in Stepford, as to any man who has lost his job, and I threw it out there with careless insensitivity, not looking out for him and how he would feel. Only for someone to sympathize, commiserate, get in my boat. I didn't protect the Partnership.

Unauthorized Disclosure II.
We have a mutual friend, a former co-worker of my husband's at Work You To Death, Inc. She was a friend of mine, but moreso after the affair, because she is divorced from an adulterous husband. As she loves both The Husband and me, she has tried in her way to be supportive, but for obvious reasons she has her own emotional leanings in this situation. Plus, she has made it clear that The Husband needs a male friend/confidant, as his relationship outside of the marriage began with an opposite-sex friendship that grew into confiding more personal stuff. You can read his own account of that part in the sidebar. ANYWAY. I have a point, hang tight. So Friend and I text messaged a bunch, and again, I probably shared too much Poor-Me crap over time but also shared some things my husband had said to me about his personal feelings in a down time. In my defense (which is slim), I was trying to actually argue a case FOR my husband, but whatever. He found out and was hurt/p*ssed/betrayed by disclosure of his feelings to a 3rd party. I didn't protect the Partnership.

Last example.
I decided a few weeks ago that we should touch base with our Pastor. He's been around from the beginning of our marital disaster; we went to him six months before the affair knowing our marriage was crap and looking for help. He did what he could in his limited knowledge; we didn't do all that we could for whatever reasons, and here we all are sadder and wiser. So he's been in our camp for a while, but he's human, the pastor of a too-fast-growing church, with not enough shepherds to help the flock, but that's how it goes and it's not all up to him. We both trust and respect him enormously, and I wanted some answers and a safe place to put my angst. So, before even telling The Husband, I email our pastor and ask if he has time to speak with me or us, and set up a time to meet. Then I ask my husband about going. I inadvertently set him up. If he doesn't go, he'll look bad. I should have spoken with him first. I didn't protect the Partnership.


I am a dumba$$. Absolutely. And that was just May.

Look petty to you? Maybe, in an otherwise normal marriage. But over time, in an already damaged relationship, these occurrences erroded any good will between us. Remember, a marriage should build walls to the outside and windows between us. Pre-affair, we had been building walls between us and windows to the outside. Hence, part of the affair. (yo, my window's open, you know?)Post-bomb, we had started to reverse the trend, and then didn't. That needs to be addressed at some point, but that point doesn't seem to be now.

Wear you out, won't it? And you're not even living it. Go thank God right now for your partner, the person on your team who looks out for you and takes care of you. Who loves you and makes love with you. Go thank God and then go thank them for it.

June is an improvement for sure, at least I think so. I don't have any positive feedback about it, but I'm okay regardless of the feedback. That's a hard place to get to, and I work hourly to keep my foothold in the vacuum.

I have no credits. I am way in the red for Goodwill Toward Me. Actually, his giveash!t-ometer is on zero and it's no secret. Every man for himself right now, mostly. Don't let that be a victim statement. He is still kind and thoughtful on a daily basis, I am just "the last thing" on his mind.

Still God loves me. Still. I cannot rest in that yet. It's the Truth, whether I feel it or not.

God's love is more important than my husband's.

I find that hard to own, but I work on it constantly.

I am self-protective, and want people in my boat with me who will See My Side. We all do. Yeah, my husband has Sh!t He Is Doing Wrong Too, believeyoume, but I am making it no cakewalk to come on over here and take my hand. When it's all I want. I sabotage my deepest longings.

You think it hasn't crossed our minds to cut bait and try again elsewhere? You bet it has.

But my core belief here has never waivered: What I want, I have always wanted with my husband. Always. Even when it makes no damned sense. I would rather work through this stuff with him than with Someone New. Although, sure, it seems like it would be mondo easier to do this with a clean record. No reminders of your failures, trust still intact, emotions not weighed down by past injuries from the other.

Sure the grass looks greener. I still fight fears that he sees greener grass across the miles. Still.
But the grass is only greener where you tend it.

My marriage looks dead. :::sniff, sniff::: smells dead. :::checks pulse::: acts dead.

God can raise the dead. God can re-create, reconcile, and resurrect. Make ALL things new. Even me. Even my husband. Even this non-relationship.

He says so. He's the God of the Universe. This is chicken feed to Him.

Where there is no way, he sent The Waymaker. People, say it with me.

Yeah, there's a Hope side to this, but dang, I'll make it a separate post.

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posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 7:50 PM   4 comments
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
The greatest of these is Love
This is a Part 1 of a personal journal entry from March 20th of this year.

I don't know how to love well (nor have I been well-loved). I know how to love wildly, be passionate, love you when it's convenient. When it's hard or difficult, I say I love you but I don't show it. I'm selfish, my grace is limited and conditional. I want to be placed in the best possible light, the most flattering.

I was a victim, and I continue to want to be one if I don't get my way. That way it's all your fault. I don't have to take any blame. You have to fight me to get me to own any "bad" in me, my situation. I will whine and poor-me when things are going poorly in a 'well, I'm just a big piece of sh!t' kind of way - it's a blanket I use to cover a multitude of sins quickly and painlessly without having to own any individual faults, or examine my specific part.

It's so automatic. SO automatic. Deflect, deflect. Get this bad stuff OFF of me. Did that literally come from the sexual abuse? Get. Off. Of Me. Now I push even good people away. Push. Elbows locked.

I am like my mother.
I fcuking hate how my mother is.
I see so little good there - can't remember good because of all the bad about her.
I am repeating history to some degree. No wonder the bad looks so big.
In the interactions/avoidance.
In the won't-take-blame.
In the Quick-to-Anger.
In the Quick-to-Sarcasm.
In the Instant-Cutting-Tone-of-Voice.
In the Poor-Me/Serve-Me attitude.
In the laziness toward the work of changing.

Blah, blah, blah.

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posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 8:26 PM   1 comments
Saturday, April 28, 2007
The Bad. The Ugly.
Let's play What If for a second.





What if I were married to a man who -putting it mildly- was not nice to me over the years.

Who had been known to yell Fcuk You! Go To Hell! or call me a B!tch. Who had hit me or pushed me when mad. Who had thrown things across the room in anger.

Who made me feel unimportant, incorrect, disrespected, or stupid on a regular basis. Who, armed with his vast knowledge about me, was able to bury verbal daggers deep in my soul with pinpoint precision. Over. And. Over. And. Over.

Who was able to hurt me deeply with his words. Who attacked me as a person, the core of goodness that I am and can be.

Who scoffed at any effort I made to do something nice for him. Who immediately felt I was not doing enough, in whatever capacity, to make him happy.

Who belittled or ignored what was important to me. Who showed me less respect than a stranger on the street.

Who made me feel unsafe. Who frankly scared me in his volatility and unpredictability. Who would I see at the end of each day? The nice man or the mean man? Who made each entry to my home filled with inner dread. Who denied me a safe harbor from the outside world.

A man I could not trust to look out for my best interest if it conflicted with his. Who always protected himself first, to the detriment of my emotional safety or the marriage itself.

A man who would not guard my heart. Who would not place it on a soft pillow and keep it safe if I handed it to him. Who I could not confide in, for fear he would use the information against me when angered.

Who apologized through the years, but did not change.

Who was no Partner to me. Who did not encourage my Best Self. With whom, I felt more alone than in an empty room.

Wouldn't you tell me to Leave Him? Get The Hell Out? Have Him Arrested?







Now. What if this person is me.

My husband the abused spouse.

Harder to believe, isn't it?

I am ashamed that it is true. Mortified. Crushed. Humiliated.

He's taken much pounding. For years. He can't even pretend to trust me with his heart or his feelings. And he's had good reason to get to this point in the road. I've laid him low.

I could lace my words with excuses and justifications, and all the years I didn't see it.

But even after Seeing It, I have snapped like a rubber band right back to being a selfish, mean person. And who cares why? Fcuk Why. Half my blog is an exercise in Justifying The Why.

At the end of the day, I am proven to be irreparable. Because all it boils down to is a good man knocked down long enough and hard enough to have nothing left to trust me with.

Fair enough. I don't blame him. I cannot possibly. I've been here in this house, too.

I am toxic. Me. It's me.

And don't even fcuking comment about how awful his affair was, girlfriend, and you have every reason to be mad, hateful, or ugly.

Just save it. This so pre-dates affair.

My husband stood by me for years while I was flailing about, knocking the wind out of him.

I have focused so long on all that Is Not. Seeing the holes in the colander that drained the water out, instead of the pasta that was held inside.

His affair is the One Big Wrong Thing he did in a Lifetime of Right Things. (there are other Small things but in the interest of the Big Picture, work with me here)

By comparison, I am a Lifetime of Big Wrong Things with Scant Right Things.

Years of counseling, different therapists, journaling, prayer, have all been fruitless in changing this piece of my equation.

After I've done -or said- something mean to him, he has pointed it out to me, I have seen it (especially since December 2005) and apologized. And meant it, I promise you. But the damage was already done by my actions or words, and progress stopped. And then we recycle the pattern in some other fashion. Rinse and repeat.

I need a dog shock collar that zaps me before I'm an as$hole. To stop me from doing years-worth more damage with each incident. But I don't have that. And my Decent Person filter only works about 5-10% of the time.

And now I have a husband who doesn't trust me, won't talk to me about his real feelings for fear I will really screw him with them, and is scared of me, of what I will do to him. Has been at this point, or almost, for so long that he probably cannot separate out when the relationship was actually destroyed.

I thought cutting communication with my family of origin last year was a step in the right direction. I thought being a better, more patient, loving parent was a step. I thought counseling, praying to God, people praying for me, all these things would effect a change in my life.

I thought wrong. And I don't deserve this man to do any more 70-times-7 forgiving or trusting. If he was beating me, should I forgive him each time he hit me and come back for the next blow? No. I don't think so. Nor should he have to.

I had to come to the computer to work this out in words. To see it in black and white. I've had to stop typing several times during this post to just grieve. Hard. I fcuked up. Over. And. Over. And. Over.

I told him I wish there were more words for Sorry, like the eskimos have so many different words for Snow. I am so sorry, in a myriad of ways, but my words don't ring true anymore because my actions haven't followed up. I just want a Reset button on my life. And I don't get one.

I haven't been able to sleep. I lay awake thinking of all God brought me through as a child. He led me out of a horrible life to a road on the way to Happily Ever After. I didn't deserve it. I didn't understand it. I didn't protect it and keep it safe. I went on autopilot and ruined my relationship with the one person who ever believed in me.

And now he doesn't. Of course he doesn't.

And that breaks me open in pain and regret.

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posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 4:53 AM   6 comments
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Wind

A few days ago, like many of you, we had a big fat storm. Snow and wind. Wind Wind Wind.

Gusts up to 70 mph (74 mph is considered hurricane force). This was serious business.

Trees fell. All that wasn't secured went flying. People lost power.


It left all things clean in its wake.

In our area are fields where cows and horses graze, now clean and unmarred. I already thought fields were generally uncluttered areas, but they were markedly brighter, colorful, and pure looking.

And then when you saw the far edges of the fields, where fences or thick brush bordered the open areas: Trash. Debris blown up against them - dry cleaning bags, fast food cups, branches piled up where their exits were prevented.

I am reminded this week how much I need winds in my life. I may think I'm pretty cleared out, but I'm just so used to my own junk I get to where I don't see it. Only when the gale forces blow through my life do I see how much sh!t is blown up against my edges.

This past year (and a half, ugh) I would not wish on anyone. It's been chaotic, devastating, lonely, terrifying, exhausting. But it continues to clean out my junk. My edges are plastered with wreckage, but my middle field is clearer than it's ever been.

My husband would likely argue otherwise; I still defend and deflect as a Default setting in any uncomfortable conversation where I might be Wrong. My shields go up automatically, and he is tired of arguing them down again.

We don't have "normal people" arguments, and we never had from Day One. Because I don't know what that looks like. I did not grow up seeing any example of healthy conflict. You either screamed, verbally attacked the other person as a piece of sh!t, used LOTS of sarcasm, walked away, or hit them. You never admitted you were wrong.

I would give anything to hang around a healthy couple when they have disagreements. To witness this elusive holy grail in real life.

I feel completely handicapped here. I think of how frustrating it is for stroke patients who have expressive aphasia: they know in their brains the word they want to say, the concept they want to communicate, but they are physically unable to SAY IT. Their brains cannot bridge the gap from concept to spoken word. This ultimate frustration brings otherwise strong adults to tears. I have some secondary understanding of their struggle.

Last year, The Husband was at the grocery store and saw a twenty-something couple in frozen foods. They were arguing yet good natured about it, and eventually resolved their conflict - ALL in the grocery store! Within a few aisles! Sounded like a movie scene to me; that far removed from my reality. He ached for that kind of communication when he saw it, came home and told me about it, how he longs for it with me. I ache for it in the way you ache to win the lottery. You want it, bad, but you don't really know what it's like - so completely foreign to what you know day-to-day.

I feel like the biggest failure in the world here, because I want to be the girl in Frozen Foods. You have no idea. But I am clueless about bridging the gap between wanting to be healthy in conflict, and the fist that squeezes my aorta when I feel threatened.

I hate this part of me. Every time a brutal, yet ultimately cleansing, wind blows through my life in this area I think, This is It. I am going to finally be able to change, just because I want it so much. Because I am convinced that I am further along in my autobiography. But then, mere days later, not so much.

LOSER, my soul cries out. Fraud, pretender, hoax.

And then the insidious whisper: he would have been happier with she-who-shall-not-be-named. she was so much better than you will ever be. you will never be good enough for him to love.

Blow, wind, blow. Take this trash out of my field.

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posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 11:06 PM   3 comments
Monday, March 19, 2007
Rules of Engagement
"Pooh?" whispered Piglet.
"Yes, Piglet? said Pooh.
"Oh, nothing," said Piglet.
"I just wanted to be sure of you."

Piglet and I have something in common here. ::poke, poke:: just making sure you're there.

Only my poke is a sharp stick. In the eye. Or soft, tender flesh.

Like a bull in a china shop, I am completely out of hand. The tinkling of glass is heard initially, as I inadvertently drop a few things, and then ::CRASH:: sh!t is falling to the floor in great explosions as I turn around in spaces too small for my big emotions.

I end up arguing, hard, with my husband, when I just meant to poke him gently to be sure he's still there. It is never gently. At least not until after glasses have been shattered and I'm aghast at the mess I've made.

And then I just want to hit the imaginary "Reset" button and poke him gently, after my Monster emotions have been spent, and they are now sleeping quietly in the corner. And he, being a logical man, is dumbfounded. Are you f-ing kidding me? Get the hell away from the crazy, unpredictable person. Run, do not walk, to the nearest Exit kind of dumbfounded.

It is rare to have my husband's full-on undivided attention/extended eye contact unless he's upset, pissed off and arguing with me. That's a years-old thing now, and I've discovered a well, then, if that is how I get your time, I'm going to do it bit of a scenario.

And after said-argument's denoument, I feel closer to him in the big picture. Even though he likely feels miles away. I know it doesn't make sense, but it's been true after just about every argument we've had (with the exception of the Dark Time). When I realized this, I mentioned it to my counselor. Who, amazingly, didn't gasp in horror at my incongruence. She was quick to enlighten me with the Why.

I've engaged him, which is what my heart cries out to do. Yet, I've engaged him negatively. And at great cost to the relationship and long-term goals of intimacy. But the status quo for my husband is to be dis-engaged from me, unplugged.

I am searching to "plug in" some way, any way, and if I can't engage him positively, by God we end up arguing. It's awful, emotional, I am usually crying, it's fcuking exhausting to both of us. It goes on and on, and when it finally ends, I am left upset but feeling connected on some wackjob level.

I can't tell you how laser-guided missile accurate that was to hear.

While it's not pre-meditated, or intentionally cruel, it's my slippery slope. Motive doesn't matter when you end up in a bad place (the road to hell is paved with good intentions and all that).

And it usually happens after a prolonged period of disconnect, or when I have reached my emotional limit of Feeling Alone and Neglected.

And despite my inner groanings of 'growth' sprouted in my last post, we just had this very scene tonight. For hours. And my bull in the china shop was crashing all over the place. At my worst I hit him (in the shoulder) and threw something (small, unbreakable) across the room at the peak of frustration.

My eyes are still puffy from the boohoos. Monster emotions were at DEFCOM 5. No one should have to internally flinch when you're in the room, you know? For God's sake, this is how I grew up. This is the steamer trunk of baggage I have brought with me and unpacked in my own house.

My emotions are labile (ya think?). The conversation started decently and then -perhaps because my subconscious radar registered that he was not plugging in- it went south.

I am NOT proud to tell you this. To reveal more of the deepest, sewage-y Yuck I still have gurgling around in my psyche is galling. I am knotted all up inside.

But I want it out there. All of it. I have for a long time, but that's not as easy as it sounds. I try to tell (a select few) friends that, yes, I had my part in running my husband away. (Caveat To Prevent The Flood Of Indignant Emails: yes, it was ultimately his mistake to go outside the marriage for a false solution, and he had his own faults in the demise of the marriage, etc. but HELLO? do you see his side even a tee-tiny bit?)

They don't believe it. Not truly. I'm the Beauty Queen. I'm all surface. I'm funny and charming and enthusiastic (the flip side of which is Monster emotions and china-shopping bulls). You can't know me. And the one person who really did see my Ugliness, walked away for a time.

But he is also still here. And at my basest, insecure depth, I cannot begin to understand why.

Excuse me, I have to go brush off my knees. And elbows. Again.

It's not how many times you try and fail, it's how many times you fail and try again. -unknown

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart. And try to love the questions themselves. -Rainer Maria Rilke

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posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 10:52 PM   1 comments
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Ch-Ch-Changes
When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves. -Viktor Frankl

In my clay feet of defensiveness and all-over protective gear, this seemingly easy task is crazyhard. I can read the books, see the picture, talk the talk. Walking the talk is a whole different ballgame.

But it's coming along.

Slowly.

And not without grand fcukups on my part. When frustrated, my Default settings are B!tchAboutIt and AttackWildly. I've fallen into doing that several times in the last month, re-setting the Spousal Goodwill Toward Wife meter to square one, or zero, or negative. I don't know where I stand at this point without a 6-week progress report.

Last week I had a few chances to put my money where my mouth is in the Change department.

One morning, things went bad. I had worked the night before, a long difficult shift, came home from work to find the house locked tighter than a drum, kids in PJs, husband still sound asleep. And school started in five minutes. He woke up apologizing, we scrambled to get them ready and instead of me getting to bed, I schlepped them to school myself. ::yawn::

Was I pissed and wildly inconvenienced? Absolutely. And normally, I would LET YOU KNOW ABOUT IT, BY GUM.

But, as I was driving to and from school, I turned it over in my brain and looked at things.

Just about any time I have screwed up big time, my husband has been amazing about it. He never makes me feel like sh!t. Never. He is supportive and okay with me in a crisis of circumstance. Always.

So, I pondered how to be that way myself. He didn't intentionally, or with malice, sleep in just to piss me off. Previously, I would have reacted as if he had, with a dammit, man, can't you do anything right? kind of undertone. This is definitely a FOO-learned behavior. And it's got to go.

He had their clothes laid out, backpacks ready, and lunches made - getting ready fast was much smoother than it would have been otherwise. I mean, we had the kids dressed and in the car in about ten minutes. So I focused on how he had them super organized the night before. I was grateful for him, and my attitude shifted.

By the time I arrived home, and he started the Repeating Apology (no doubt in anticipation of the bi-otch I would normally be), I was able to snuff it out by telling him how much I appreciated the fact that the kids were basically ready to go the night before from his prep work, he had made it easy, that was great of him, it was no big deal, it all turned out fine. And I wasn't Faking It. I had worked internally toward true OkayWithIt-ness and AppreciatingMyHusband. And I went to sleep. In a much better place than the old me would have been.

Scene Two:

We're at a sports event. It's been a fun day. I turn to say something to him in the crowded arena with one child between us. Call his name. Repeatedly. He is faced away from me watching something else. He's only 1+ seat away and doesn't acknowledge me. I keep saying his name loudly and he finally turns to me with an aggrevated, "What?!"

[insert divorce papers here]

I was so put out by then, I said "Nothing" and turned away. And proceeded to spend the next 15-20 minutes trying to salvage my attitude and re-gain my center. I had been having a good day. I do not need to let this one thing send me over the everything sucks, my life is over, my husband can't stand me edge. It was a long and protracted internal battle, but the good guys finally won. My Default settings were overridden, and my outlook improved. But, damn people, it was hard work. Would have been much easier to let that one perceived meanness take over, to quit talking to him, or slap a retort back into the fray.

A lot of this negative manifestation (or not) is up to me and my attitude. I don't mean to sound like a self-help book, but it sort of came to me on the way home that night that I am going to have to make a lot of internal effort that no one will even be seeing.

I think I've been just 'waiting' for things to change, my situation, my marriage, my husband, my attitude, everything. In sort of a passive mode, as if understanding the issues, praying about it, and knowing what should change would change it all.

I came to a (long-overdue) realization that I am going to have to Always Be Working At It. That this is going to be an Ongoing Effort On My Part. For a Long Time. And trust me, I'm going to fall down all over the place making mistakes here, but the fact that I just finally owned that part of the puzzle was something in itself.

Reading over this post, it sounds less significant than it was. Oh well. Some posts are only for me anyway.

There's your work, the other person's work, and God's work. All you are responsible for is your work. You cannot do the other person's work OR God's work: it's impossible. And anyway, you're only responsible for yours. -unknown

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posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 8:36 AM   7 comments
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Middle of The Cake
I just want to live happily-ever-after every now and then. -Jimmy Buffett



When trips to the library & free time were more readily available, I enjoyed the author, she's very fun. (click photo to travel to amazon.com) She wove some words together in this book that I took away with me, and use mentally a LOT:

The protagonist reflects on attending a stress-reduction seminar where they were instructed to imagine a safe and comforting place. She figured everyone else was envisioning warm beaches, and she couldn't find comfort in any of the standard imagery. She writes:

The place that I went, the place that I still go, was the warm hollowed-out center of a Bundt cake. It is usually gingerbread, though sometimes that changes. Sometimes it's gingerbread crowned in a ring of poached pears. The walls that surround me are high and soft, but as they go up they curve back, open up to the light, so I feel protected by the cake but never trapped by it. ...I press my cheek against the cake, which is soft as eiderdown and still warm. This isn't a fantasy about food exactly, at least not insofar as I want to eat my way through a cake that's taller than I am. It's about being inside of cake, being part of something that I find to be profoundly comforting.

She goes on to say

It was a laugh to think I was stressed when I signed up for that workshop. ...I remember it now and hang my head in disbelief. I want to go back to that person I was, take her by the shoulders and shake her. "Look again!" I want to say to myself. "You are standing in the middle of paradise." [emphasis mine]

Or as I nutshelled it, I was in the middle of the cake. But I was so obtuse I lost perspective for all that I had in my hands already. If only I had looked harder at myself, and my relationship(s).

I put my head in the sand, ignored the signs that I was in some poor patterns of behavior as a wife, parent, person. Ignore, ignore, stay busy, put priorities in all kinds of dumbass places (hobbies, busy-work, affirmation for tasks/committees), avoid relational intimacy, la la la.

In the aftermath of my life imploding, I realize almost daily that I was in the middle of the cake. I just want to sit in a corner and eat my hair when I think about it. I had so much, squandered vast potential. I'm trying not to lose hope of finding the cake again, even a cupcake.

Dammit. I crawled out of a very fcuked up childhood/adolescence and managed to knit together a decent human being.

And then, unbelievably, found the person who was my happily ever after. Cheesy as it sounds, it was all that. He was everything I ever wanted - and believeyoume I had kissed, etc my share of frogs to know. People commented that I lit up from the inside out when I saw him.

Then as times got stressful or difficult, as things in all progressing relationships will, I emotionally pulled away and attacked the one person who was on my team. For a long time.

I knew no other example of how to be, but I couldn't help it is of small comfort over here by myself. And I'm paying the price. Even now, when I know what not to do and why, I still grind against my Default settings.

My safe, loving, comforting places are gone, and I struggle with losing my soft spot to fall. To rest my loving gaze. To have it returned.

And lately, the heavens seem as brass. :::tap, tap::: is this thing on?

I was in the Middle of the Cake.

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posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 11:53 PM   1 comments
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Past Sins II
Um, so.

Last time I just set up the scene: what my life was like, and how I could remotely get to the envelope-pushing place with a man who was (a) married and (b) I was also friends with his wife. Eww.

I'll be telling you all about it, the rise and fall of the forbidden relationship, in an effort to pull it out and examine it from this faraway distance. I need the perspective, and I need to purge it. At least I think I do. And here's why.

I still see that time through a glass darkly. I know it was wrong, but I also filter it through my then-perspective, which makes me lean toward 'excusing' or downplaying my behavior somewhat (so that I can live with myself? I don't know).

I really should be over vomiting in a corner about what I did back then, but I cannot quite make myself because - get ready - it was fun.

As I told you before, I loved dangerous, and my secret self still longs to be swept away in excitement and danger (obviously, the ideal is not a fcuking married-to-another man but back in the day of young and stupid truly all-about-me, that's where I was). It's like it wasn't 'really' adultery because we were all so young, or always out partying, or they didn't have kids, or insert your own crazy-ass excuse here.

Oh. My. Dear. God. Isn't that awful? I am creeping my own self out. I was (and still am?) so absolutely screwed up, but I'm saying it out loud. You have no idea how tempting it is to highlight and delete all this text so you will never know such bad sh!t about me. I sinned and I am remorseful. Kind of.

Yes, if not for grace, I would be completely going to hell.

Even after all that has happened to me (being the married woman whose husband was unfaithful), my point of view in my own adultery is still skewed. I heard a song a month or so ago that reminded me of Glenn, and immediately - without the time to censor myself - I smiled inwardly at the memory of a good time. (I am a little nauseous telling you this, because I realize how horrible and hypocritical this makes me).

As soon as the pleasant thought passed, I thought Does my husband have involuntary warm fuzzies when a song plays, or something reminds him of her? Before he can censor it because it was "bad", does he have a happy thought of her?

For a microsecond I could go there. I could understand it.

And yet in the very next second, my betrayed, self-righteous, hyprocritical self got all uppity and whatnot that he could dare have a warm thought of her. WTH is that? One-sided, selfish, and self-protective: that's what the hell that is.

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posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 7:43 PM   3 comments
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Honor and Cherish Her
I wanted to introduce you to this book properly, but had to share this bit from the middle of the book first. I don't know why, just go with me.
This is a great book. The subtitle is: The Love She Most Desires, The Respect He Desperately Needs
True, that.

I started this book waaaaaay before the adultery, but our marriage was already being admitted to the Relationship ICU with multiple diagnoses of neglect, lack of communication, disrespect, and lack of intimacy. I was half-heartedly trying to get some answers. But. I was still asleep and blind in my way, and just stopped reading somewhere in the middle. It has been on my nightstand for almost two years now. I picked it up recently to add to my lineup of simultaneous reading, and I have brand new eyes reading it believeyoume. You can link to the amazon.com page by clicking on the photo.

There's a "crazy cycle" to marriage relationships. In a tee-tiny nutshell: If she feels unloved, she is disrepectful. If he feels disrespected, he is unloving. It's simple but so true.

Much more to follow on the basics there, and I'll talk more about what I learned in the post about this book that should have preceeded this one, but whatever. My blog. My rules. My brand of crazy, here.


Chapter Fourteen
Esteem - She Wants You To Honor and Cherish Her

Over the years, many men have come to me and said, "You know, Pastor, my prayer life isn't what it should be."
I respond, "How are you treating your wife?"
"No, no," the husband hastens to explain. "My prayer life isn't where it ought to be."
"How are you treating your wife?"
"No, no, Pastor, I'm saying my prayer life; I'm not talking about my wife."
I smile and say, "I am talking about your wife."

...Tucked into I Peter 3:7 is one more phrase that every husband should heed. Peter adds that the reason the husband should treat his wife in an understanding way, as a fellow heir in Christ, is so that his "prayers will not be hindered." That is why I would often tell men who came to see me for counsel that, if heaven seemed silent to their prayers, perhaps they were not honoring their wives as God intended.

These men were sure they were doing all the right things, walking in integrity, and serving the Lord, but when they prayed, the heavens semed as brass. They kept wondering, "God, why aren't You hearing me?" And as we probed a little deeper, we often saw that the answer for these men was that they weren't living with their wives in an understanding way that honored and esteemed them. As soon as these men started obeying Scripture, their prayer life improved.

...Your wife does not want to chair the relationship but she does want to be first in importance to you. This is what Peter means by "show her honor" (I Peter 3:7). Your wife wants to know that you have her on your mind and heart first and foremost. This is what I mean by "esteem"; when it's there, your wife will feel treasured as if she's the most loved woman on earth. Also, she will want to respect you in a similar way that the church reverence Christ. Remember that your love motivates her respect, and her respect motivates your love!

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posted by Adventures in Stepford @