| 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. Labels: introspection, life in stepford, relational |
posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 10:44 AM   |
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| Tuesday, January 22, 2008 |
| A Rapid Succession of Continual Days |
The Husband said something in recent weeks that makes sense: (a) he has no one to talk to, which is very very true. There is nobody. And (b) for the last two years, people have only wanted to talk about his Marriage, not his Hurt.
I am ALL ABOUT talking about my marriage - it's the most important thing to me. But it's not the most important thing to him, to be honest. He lost his whole Life, his Purpose, his Friends, his Reputation, his (perceived?) ability to Provide and Protect, and Nobody has come alongside him in Stepford to walk this long road.
He is coming undone, off and on, after years of the same. He has nothing to give to anyone (except to the kids), and feels like he's losing his mind and his faith, along with his life. It's the Loss trifecta.
Yes, sure, I selfishly think it's been cruel and sinful - the physical/emotional freezing out of me by him, pre- and post-affair, I am ready to come undone over that point alone. But this post isn't about me today. (shocker, I know) And as I've spelled out before, ad nauseum: he has his reasons. I've been an abusive spouse. But the affair (his part, my part, the aftermath) complicates the 'black & white' of it all.
The Husband has often thought that God must be waiting for him to get something, or solve some spiritual Rubik's Cube - that he simply does not have the strength to do, and cannot understand - before God will move/encourage him/change his circumstances.
And, honestly, between you and me, and at the risk of sounding like the Total Fcuking Center of the Universe: I do sometimes wonder if the lack of effort/focus toward the Wife and Marriage Relationship plays any part of his lack of Restoration in other areas. Is it 1Peter that says something about how you treat your wife affecting your prayer life? Plus the whole your-body-is-not-your-own stuff, etc. from Corinthians.
BUT.
BUT: I realize that I may likely be extrapolating out of my self-centeredness here. That's just me me me, want want want, take take take- which is how The Husband views me, and has said so. And at this desperate point for me, is certainly the case.
BUT.
He has no one to talk to, and that still remains true. And moreso now, two years later. No friends, no phone calls, silence. He falls frequently into a pit that gets deeper with no one offering a hand that doesn't point back to me, what he did, and Fixing the Marriage above all else. No one else is in this house to see him slowly dying from the hurt. Losing his mind from the stress. Falling down in his continued, never-ending pain. A succession of days go by with no change. Day after day after day. He is coming apart with nowhere to put it. He can't sleep. He has mysterious aches and pains. He keeps a headcold/sinus infection that flares about once a month. This from the Artist Formerly Known as the Picture of Health.
We both have our Falling Down days, and then somehow live to crawl the next inch.
He was reading a book a few months ago, Rebuilding Your Broken World, that made this point: that if the church/community doesn't offer grace, restoration cannot occur. I understand that, but don't believe the church/community is bigger than God, who can do anything no matter what the world does.
And although He's not come through yet, I still hold up my tee-tiny Bic lighter in this darkened concert venue in my -albeit faltering- hope that God, the Ultimate Rockstar Savior, will come back for an encore performance. But my husband holds onto this book's point as The Reason (or one of them) that his World Will Not Be Restored.
He's in no shape for marriage counseling (as so many people continue to recommend), or any form of 'counseling' - he is SO alone, and feels God is punishing/ignoring him. He is in his own cocoon of self-loathing and hopelessness - I swear I don't think anybody GETS that. And in order to have someone talk to him, he has to pay them (when we've counseled). And even those people quickly focus on Fixing the Marriage, and don't give any value to his pain and the Loss of Who He Was; only What He Did.
Which compounds his hurt and only continues the path of Aloneness.
So. I am desperate for The Husband to have someone to talk to, before I come home to find him dead from a stroke or heart attack, or worse.
He is a good person. I believe in him - even while I have emotionally beaten the sh!t out of him for far too long, and continue to when I feel threatened. Damn me. He has talents and gifts being wasted and unused. I believe God has a purpose for him that it's not time for yet, for whatever frustrating/heartbreaking reason. He has lost faith in his future, and he has NOTHING coming in.
No one feeding him hope. I try to encourage him and tell him what I see, but obviously, I am so enmeshed in this situation from my own stuff, sins, wants, and the complexities of our situation - that it's laughable to think I could possibly be effective at this point.
And so I continue to pray for him, for me, for us, and struggle with my own faith issues because of the lack of God-Saving-the-Day here.
He needs a friend. Just one. Just someone to listen to him and validate him. And hold his arms up in this battle (what Bible story was that? I can't remember). Would he even be able to see that person reach out -and reach back - at this point, this late in the Disillusioned and Mistrustful game?
More on my crap later, of which there is always much.Labels: life in stepford, relational |
| posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 5:46 PM |
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| 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.Labels: introspection, life in stepford, relational |
| posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 7:50 PM |
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| Tuesday, May 22, 2007 |
| Things I Miss |
sleeping with my leg hooked over his
the look in his eyes that made me weak with anticipation of his kiss...and then his kiss
drifting off to sleep with my head on his shoulder, my hand on his chest. The impression that I am safe, anchored by this good guy.
hearing someone tell me they miss me alreadyLabels: past tense, relational |
| posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 1:56 PM |
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| 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.Labels: introspection, relational |
| posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 4:53 AM |
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| 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.Labels: introspection, Kodachrome, relational |
| posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 11:06 PM |
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| Sunday, April 15, 2007 |
| Gotta Keep 'Em Separated |
An old, old, old entry never posted...
I am weary of crying myself to sleep alone. I'm tired of being at work so much. I miss my kids. I miss having a life. A real one, with laughter, and flirting, and silent smiling eye contact, and touch. And TIME. OMgosh, ya'll, I physically ache from touch withdrawl. I'm tired of hugging myself in bed at night so I don't fly apart. I'm so sad. I need to increase my meds. I want to be something more than someone's pain in the ass. Someone to avoid each day. And each night. Continuously. Without end.
I know a lot of sh!t is my fault. I know it. But I'm tired of being so alone. Unloved. So, so tired. Just a bad night, long hours at work, not enough sleep. I'm sure people pay good money for the salty facials I give myself at night with my tears. I can't even see the fcuking monitor. A glance at his lower back in passing makes my heart hurt. I want to kiss his arms as they grip the steering wheel.
I want him to want my skin touching his. He does not. I am blessed to get a foot touching mine in the late night when he returns to bed. I am not being facetious. I am blessed to have it. I love to feel his skin, and if that is all I get so be it. I am just sad he may never want it again. That his Default mode is sleeping-with-his-back-facing-wife. Only when I leave the bed does he turn to face my side. Even while sleeping. It's that deeply ingrained to Avoid Me.
We live a life of halves. Our clean laundry barely touches in the hamper. His side. My side. I want it all mixed up together. He separates it. So I do, too. I smell his shirts before they go in the washer. I cannot even imagine him doing something like that. (Not with mine)
I see potential for so much positives, but it's like the bridge washed out and we just look at each other over the chasm and think, well, damn. that's too bad. When a quick look around and some joint effort would build something better.
I see other people light up when I walk in. He doesn't anymore. He goes dimmer. Other people used to comment about how I would light up when I saw him. Did he ever notice that? Does it matter?
Save a place for me
Save a space for me
In your heart
In your heart
-Tracy Chapman
You break me open
-Jars of Clay
I like the dreams of the future better than the history of the past. -Thomas JeffersonLabels: past tense, quotes, relational |
| posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 7:08 PM |
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| Sunday, March 25, 2007 |
| Tire Spikes |
[Hey, I appreciate the comments from my slamfest. Very much. But it was helpful to take a look at myself from their point of view. I'm good, thanks. Oh, I am so not the hero, Mr. PhD. Not by a mile. Ask my husband - although thanks for the shoutout.]
Insanity has been defined as doing the same old thing over and over and expecting different results. -unknown
Jeez, ya'll. I went back to look at this blog from the beginning, got to about October of last year and hit the brakes, discouraged. I'm sure I'll keep reading later but why the hell are you?
I am a fcuking yoyo if you look at the Big Picture. Self-aware one day, Ignorant the next. Thoughtful one day, Selfish the next. Have a plan one day, Emotionally lose control the next. What a gigantic PITA I see overall.
I'm emotionally unpredictable. So much so that my sweet little family is uncomfortable, and tiptoes around me if I am moody (which has been often). I control the household with fear. Is she in a good mood? Will she be nice to me or not? That makes me sick. Look: I was all excited last September about changing my tone of voice, threw myself a little blog parade about it. There's been no permanent change there: just had an issue with that two days ago with my daughter. Sh!t.
What the hell is all this therapy for, if change is a)slow and yet b) not long-lasting. I'm convinced that all this going-back-in-time-to-relive-past-traumas in therapy is pretty much a load of sh!t for actually moving forward. It firmly plants you in the past. I know all the crap that happened to me in my childhood. I know my issues. I know how I got here. I know why I am wired the way I am. Fcuk that, now let's FIX it. I need solutions, how to change my world NOW.
This belief is backed up by at least one well-known therapist, Michele Weiner-Davis:
It's my belief that couples in crisis don't have the luxury to analyze how they were raised in order to find solutions to their marital problems. If your therapist is focusing on the past, suggest a future-orientation.
I agree: I am not on board that all this going back is where it's at. If so, I would have long ago been the Poster Child for a changed life, I've been in counseling of some sort for years on end. I'm just funding their annual vacations.
It's like rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. The ship is going down, people. Let's get on a life boat, to safety, and then analyze why the ship sank and go salvage what we can from it.
I can't find the exact quote, but Davis doesn't believe in ignoring the past issues once the marriage is OUT of crisis. Address the crisis first, then go back. Makes sense to me.
She also says: Know that most marital problems are solvable. Don't let your therapist tell you that change is impossible. Human beings are amazing and they are capable to doing great things- especially for people they love.
This is where my rubber hits my road. If I loved my husband (and by extension, kids) enough, I should be doing my "great things" for the "people I love", right? Perhaps the "people I love" most is me. And so I spin my life and actions/inactions thusly. I can't just keep overreacting in the name of What's Not Happening in My Marriage. God, what a mess.
More from Michele: Just keep in mind that forgiveness isn't a feeling. It is a decision. You decide that you are going to start tomorrow with a clean slate. Even if it isn't easy, you make the determination that the alternative is even harder, and that you are going to do what you must to begin creating a more positive future.
I have made that decision, several times in the last year, and then backslide based on emotions and impatience. I have to keep my eyes on the goal instead of the immediate. I am one to extrapolate that What's Happening Now is What Will Always Be Happening. It's inaccurate, and a self-fulfilling prophesy. I think my husband does this too, and we both keep doing the same things, and yet thinking we will change (see above definition of Insanity).
At one point (albeit an all-too-brief one) I really thought we were getting somewhere in this marriage post-explosion. There was a window of connection and positive movement last May (pre-blogging) then it dissipated. When I think of what I want with my husband, I think about last May - not pre-affair. There was an openness, connection, and sweetness that was starting to appear between us. That time is where my lingering Hope For Us springs from, despite all evidence to the contrary.
And then the relationship faltered, stalled, and shifted into Reverse. And ran over tire spikes. Blew every tire on the damned vehicle. We seem to have accepted that our car won't run, since it's been such a long time since it started. Hoping that the tow truck will arrive by telepathy, or some such crap.
[We've talked about it since, and neither one of us is quite sure what factors were in place that made those positive interactions real. Or else we'd be re-creating it.]
We're waiting for the right feelings before we do the right actions. And that's just bullsh!t and backwards. Part of our solution is that we need to ACT as healthy married folk do and trust the feelings to FOLLOW. It's like reading the Bible, to me. I know I should, and I drag my sorry ass over to do it when I'd rather be checking my email or doing something less important. But I MAKE myself do what I ought, and AFTER I've done it I FEEL better. I am not feeling particularly close to God before I do it, but afterwards I DO feel closer. Action first, then feeling. Makes sense, right? So why can't we just GET ON THE TRAIN?
Because: ultimately I'm scared to death to be hurt again, crave reassurance I don't have/doesn't stick, and stay in the state of partial dread that I may hear the words that he wants out anyway.
Because: ultimately he is uncomfortable in my presence, having to police my emotions, never knowing when I might 'blow'. I exhaust him; he's past putting in effort because it's not rewarded. I appreciate it, and ten minutes/two hours/one day later I've forgotten it because it wasn't enough, and I'm disappointed in what we still don't have. All we are not. Terrified it will never Compare To. And therefore, it doesn't. What you focus on expands.
At this point we are lost as to how to hit the "reset" button. If this marriage is supposed to be Over, at least I want to run at it well and hard before I call it a day. To hold hands and just Jump. Both of us. We are so wary to do it now. Because it's been 'bad' for longer than it was 'good' - that if we commit to jump, it still won't work. Or that one of us will pull the ball out from under us, a la Lucy and Charlie Brown.
There are layers upon layers of emotional complication, and I just want to somehow Wipe It Out, and say fcuk it, let's go.
Look at this promising comment after a post from The Husband's Story last year:
I agree with all you said. It's so not worth it. I'm so glad I made it. When I went to couseling, they told us, "Write love notes (just little ones) and leave them places for each other, give her flowers even when you don't feel like it, say I love you even if it feels empty. My husband and I did that and we slowly started to fall in love again. The actions came before the feelings. Now we are doing so much better.
Short of a brain/emotional transplant, I am going to have to rely on doing the right thing being its own reward. No unmet expectations derailing me. Just me & God for a while. As it should be. I always start out strong, and then -pfft- poop out from loneliness, exhaustion, or a wayward thought that ambushes me.
So promise yourself, that no matter what the reason, you will not go another day blaming your partner and feeling lonely. Make peace. Make up. Make love. I promise you that the benefits of deciding to forgive go far beyond anything you can picture in your mind's eye at the moment. Your decision to forgive will create a ripple effect of exponential changes in your life. -Michele Weiner-Davis
Do, or Do Not. There is no Try. -Yoda, in "The Empire Strikes Back"Labels: life in stepford, relational |
| posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 9:58 AM |
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| 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 RilkeLabels: introspection, quotes, relational |
| posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 10:52 PM |
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| Saturday, March 17, 2007 |
| Let's Talk About Sex... |
Okay, okay. This post has garnered some strong emotions in the comment section. Mine included. Please feel free to add to the discussion there, help a girl out.
I do want to clarify that the man I quoted in that post was separated for years, plural, from his wife before they were reconciled. And there was NO adultery on either part, so his point of view is not skewed by anyone betraying the marriage in a sexual manner.
I think perhaps I should have clarified that for you from the get-go, even though I happen to agree with him regardless of what happened in my marriage.
It was an issue before the adultery with us, and continues in the aftermath, the irony of which is almost unbearable at times. I'm completely befuddled. And feel continually chosen against. Daily. Nightly. Over and over. Let's face it. I'm an anomaly here. I have the higher sex drive, UNstereotypically, as the female in my relationship. I was the 'betrayed' partner who actually WANTS physical intimacy in my marriage. My whole situation is off-kilter, compared to many of you. End of story.
I subscribed to a daily Christian email for wives, to encourage us how to specifically be more generous and caring. Because, hello, I realize I was not treating him well for a long time and I'll take all the help I can get. Half of those emails are instructing the wives to be more sexual to their husbands. Obviously, I am a freak of nature, if you believe the media. I don't need that advice, thanks.
My husband is a great guy; you would really like him if you met him. I guarantee it. He's a guy's guy, but also relates well to women. He's thoughtful, witty, smart and kind. I really enjoy him. He's also hot, and when he puts his mind to it he can kiss me like no one ever has and take my breath away. Literally. Cannot breathe.
But he doesn't. Put his mind to it. Some days he barely acknowledges me physically. I cannot remember the last time he tried to take my breath away. As a physical person, who loves to touch, this is hard to reconcile. Not only with my idea of a marriage, but with the man I did marry. And I didn't just marry someone less than ideal and hope it would get better; I married my ideal person. In every area. He was all that and a bag of chips, for a time.
So. That's difficult for me. It just is, and I am sick of apologizing for wanting/needing sex in a marriage. I have a physically able and sexy husband. Just out of reach.
I remember reading somewhere that when you're having it, sex is 10% of a marriage but 90% when you're not. I would love for it to take its proper place in my life at 10% instead of the big elephant in the room. And it's not just sex. I'm including physical affection of any kind, touches, kisses, hugs, special eye contact, verbal flirting. I'm convinced that if it were happening, my almost insatiable desire would decrease to a manageable level.
I no longer am comfortable wanting such things, and paralyzed to initiate any of it. How this all shakes down psychologically: I don't feel like a priority to my husband. I haven't for a long time, and the continued status quo reinforces my low status (below children and other-things-to-do) rather than reassure me of anything positive. It's not just a physical thing; it never has been. I want to be important to him. Walk the talk.
As I said in one of the comments I made under the post we're talking about: I just can't accept that this status quo is how God planned it, or that He intends to keep us here. Our God is a passionate God. I am made in his image. Insert Flap A into Slot B.
Your lips, O my spouse, drip as the honeycomb; honey and milk are under your tongue ... Song of Songs 4:11 NKJV
Drink and imbibe deeply, O lovers. Song of Songs 5:1b NAS
I am my beloved's, and his desire is for me. Song of Songs 7:10 NASLabels: life in stepford, quotes, relational |
| posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 9:25 PM |
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| Monday, March 12, 2007 |
| Flatline Sex Life |
Well, that last post was a whine-fest, so I'll get out of my own head and let someone else do today's whining portion.
With his permission, this is what a wise man wrote to a woman who didn't want to have sex with her husband. He shared his point of view, in the hopes that she could understand what her own husband felt in a sex-starved marriage.
And after reading what he wrote, she got it. Really got it. So one man's stuggle blessed another person. That's what you hope for, second only to setting right your own.
Here's how I feel about my wife not being able to be intimate. I feel like I have a disease, like I'm not good enough for her, like there's something wrong with me, like she doesn't like me or love me, like I'm shackled and stuck in a cage that I can't get out of. It makes me want to divorce her, and go find a woman that'll want to have sex with me. A woman that enjoys a good orgasm, and isn't afraid to show it.
You see, one of the biggest turn-ons for a guy is a woman who's turned on. It's not a porno kind of thing, it's a sharing of the love thing. It's a communication that is deep and very hard to describe, but it lets us guys know that we are needed, loved, and appreciated, like a warm piece of fresh baked apple pie. We come away with the satisfaction of knowing that our woman just recieved the fullest of the love we can possibly deliver.
Being refused good sex is the ultimate rejection. It's like a kid pouring his soul into a work of art, or writing beautiful story, and being super excited to show it to his mom, only to find mom uninterested or not even care to see it. Makes you just want to tear it up and throw it away.
Personally, it's the cruelest thing I've ever had to face. I'd much rather have her be rude, ugly, short tempered, air headed, etc. Just about anything but frigid.
Sex should not get mixed up in personal differences. It should be like brushing your teeth, you do it every day no matter if you're mad or sad or whatever. Don't get it mixed up with all the other confusing emotions that are running around.
Just have a glass of wine, dance naked in front of the mirror, whatever you need to get you a little warm, and then give that man the whole of you! Teach him how to bring you to climax like only YOU know how to climax and scream outloud how good it feels.
It's a blessing from God to you and your spouse. Keeping your spouse from good sex, is keeping them from one of the greatest blessings that God has given a marriage.Labels: other people's words, relational |
| posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 11:49 AM |
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| Tuesday, February 06, 2007 |
| Sat in Any Chairs Lately? |
When I started this blog last year, I had the intent of telling 1) The Story of Me and 2) why I started this introspection: the bomb blast of the adultery. My husband was amazing, I think: in the middle of his own pain and mistrust, he agreed to start sharing his part of our story here - since our perspectives are so different on separate sides of the blast.
We both had gaping wounds, each inflicted by the other. Both. Of. Us. I cannot emphasize this enough. Gaping, bloody ones with jagged edges. The kind of wounds that have to heal from the inside out, and will not knit together in a pretty thin line.
We were trying to process our new-to-us lives the best we knew how, while walking around like those zombies from Michael Jackson's "Thriller" video. We were in counseling together. We talked more, instead of just the necessary running-the-household-and-raising-kids conversations. There was guarded effort toward a better marriage on both our parts. We were not moving very fast, but there was wee snail movement toward a different and better relationship.
We each bemoaned the fact that I'm doing the best I can ... I'm doing all I can do ... Our counselor called bullsh!t on that right quick-like. We were each doing what we were willing to do at that point in time, but we were not doing everything we could have done for each other. Doing so would have involved a leap of faith that would cause extreme discomfort for each of us, considering our FOO and individual baggage.
Relational intimacy was hard for us in the best of times, much less in an aftermath of emotional gore like we were experiencing. Therefore, we wanted better, but could not/would not make the leap to getting it.
It's akin to an analogy I heard about faith in God; I think this was a Frank Peretti anecdote. He spoke about believing in God in the same way you believe in that chair across the room. Yes, that's a chair, it has four legs and a seat. Looks sturdy.
Yes, but will you go SIT in it?
You can lip-service all day, and intellectually drone on about the engineering of the chair and how it is structured to hold you up. But when the rubber hits the road, will you go over there and trust it to hold your weight?
There's the test, I think. And while I failed it for most of my life, I'm seeing how not sitting in the chair, from a place of relative "safety" across the room, is ultimately not in my best interest. Comfortable is not working.
I need to leap. I need to sit in the chair and trust it to hold me up. God is big enough to hold me and my baggage. He won't drop me. I know that intellectually. I do believe it. But I haven't walked over to sit in the chair. I haven't leapt in my faith. Shame on me.
I didn't leap in my marriage relationship, pre- or post-bomb. I waited to see if it was safe. I'll step here, if you'll go first. If you will, I will. Oddly enough, our relationship together started as a testimony to leaps of faith, of love. Probably the first and only time either of us stretched like that, before or since. And doing so rewarded both of us. It's astounding, in retrospect, how love moved us big time. Mightily.
Then it got less and less comfortable to make big steps. Always glancing out of our peripheral vision at each other: what's he/she doing? because if he/she's not making an effort to [whatever], i'm not stepping out by myself. Ugh. It's exhausting to look to someone else to guide your steps (or your non-steps).
Eventually we quit sharing our hearts at all. Married to a relative stranger. Familiar only in the routine of life, but not where it counts. Ya'll know.
Do I need to be looking to another person to guide my steps? No. I need to look away from the other side of the bed and look up. That's where my hope is. I'm just now figuring that out in a real way, not just a yeah, i know that kind of way.
When my husband was actively posting here, and we were routinely discussing our relationship together IRL, it was okay to blog the adultery and stories about him - or at least fairer. And while I hope it isn't always the case, he no longer posts his story/firsthand wisdom here, and we don't discuss Big Picture Issues daily. Because of that, it seems less 'okay' to blog about those things currently. I could be wrong, but we'll go with it for now.
I do want to tell you more about my husband as a person, what made me love him from the get-go. What contributes to why I still can. Just so you don't know him only as 'the adulterer'. Because that's not fair, and not who he is. I've posted a lot about my pain, because, hello, it is very real (see above reference to jagged wounds). But so is his.
I don't intend to go down the rabbit holes of my marriage and adultery specifically as the Main Plot Point to my blog. That's not to say I won't talk about either, or both, in relation to my story, or throw some lyrics into the mix that mean something to me personally. But I have a plethora of my own issues to work through, back stories of crazy-making and poor judgments that contributed to my unique chaos, and eventually helped lead to problems in my marriage. That's what I intended to do initially, and I hope to get back on track. Stay tuned.Labels: introspection, relational |
| posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 8:42 PM |
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| Thursday, January 25, 2007 |
| The "Oh, Sh!t" Guy |
"I was hoping it would be you"
It was barely 7:00 am on a weekday in those post-college, but pre-career days. A job, but not every day. More nights out than in. No 24/7 responsibilities yet.
I had just finished my second degree (the one that would actually get me a j-o-b outside of temping), and had recently ended a 2-year relationship with a guy I thought I wanted to marry.
Then I met The Husband. OMG, he was fun. I was on a date with a friend of his when I met him. And that was all she wrote for The Friend (who was just an in-between, killing-time kind of relationship anyway).
The Would-Be Husband was handsome, he was razor-sharp witty and could make me laugh. Hard. When he kissed me, I could not breathe, it was that amazing. Nobody has kissed me like that before or since. He was totally into me, and played no Typical Boy maybe-I-like-you games. He was in. I was almost in, and it had been maybe 2 weeks -at the most- since I'd met him.
And then 2-Year Guy came back.
And I got confused. I mean, I had TWO YEARS with this man. A relationship. History. Loved his family. And I barely just met The Would-Be Husband. Logic was leaning against him after so little time.
So. I explained to Would-Be Husband about the Return of Two-Year Guy.
And then I couldn't stop thinking about him, so I called him the next morning at o'dark-thirty and his roommate answered (sorry, man). Then Would-Be Husband got on the line with his deep, I-don't-even-sound-like-I've-slept-at-all voice.
I was hoping it would be you, he said.
Isn't there someone in your past that you broke up with and later said "oh, sh!t" about?, I asked him.
There was.
Well, I explained, he is my "oh, sh!t" guy, and now he wants back in.
And Would-Be Husband said, But I might be your "oh, fcuking sh!t" guy.
He was right.Labels: past tense, relational |
| posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 8:20 AM |
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| Monday, January 22, 2007 |
| Behold the Power of Words |
I shouted aloud and louder
while out on a plain one day,
The sound grew faint and fainter
Until it had died away.
My words had gone forever,
They left no trace or track,
But the hills nearby caught up the cry
And sent an echo back.
I spoke a word in anger
To one who was my friend,
Like a knife it cut him deeply,
A wound that was hard to mend.
That word, so thoughtlessly uttered,
I would we could both forget,
But its echo lives and memory gives
The recollection yet.
How many hearts are broken,
How many friends are lost
By some unkind words spoken
Before we count the cost!
But a word or deed of kindness
will repay a hundredfold,
For it echoes again in the hearts of men
And carries a joy untold.
- C.A. LufburrowLabels: past tense, quotes, relational |
| posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 4:20 AM |
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| Sunday, January 14, 2007 |
| Agonizing |
ag.o.ny (ag'uh-nee): extreme and generally prolonged pain; intense physical or mental suffering.
And that's what happens when I take my eyes off the center line. It's like a bunch of mini panic attacks, but they're quiet and deep inside me, not always visible to anyone else.
Except when they leak out through the cracks in my soul. Like the other night, I had to leave work because I could not function. I could not even get it together enough to be embarrassed by it, the onslaught of continual tears. I simply could not stop. The kind people I work with called in a replacement and sent me home with a hug, dumbfounded by their formerly funloving, enthusiastic co-worker coming undone.
Yes, a byproduct of physical exhaustion as well, but truly, I've been slowly coming undone all of my life, really, and I just cannot fake it well any longer. (could there BE any more commas in that sentence?)
The Husband has left it up to me whether to leave. He has given up the fight, no longer caring enough to chase me down, for those of you that remember how I tested old boyfriends.
I won't leave. I love him. Dammit, I don't know how I feel about that. Part of me is proud that I love him, he's my husband and a wonderful kind thoughtful person. The other part feels like a jackass, because he doesn't love me back and has loved another in the interim. He is here because it's the 'right thing to do' and our children are happy, and he's praying that God will change his heart toward me (made ever so difficult by my fcuking insanity -truly- at the end of the suck job that was 2006), and he's been praying to love me again long before the affair happened. Unbeknownst to me until post-affair.
It begs the question: how much more like sh!t can one possibly feel?
It makes me nauseated if I dwell upon these things, and the little Quisinarts take up residence in my chest, set on grind or puree. I start to crack open, and while some of that is good, and needed, it also is frightening. Because I don't have six months to weep in a rubber room, I still have to function in the world, work at a high-stress job, interact with my children in a healthy way, and figure out how to truly communicate with The Husband with limited interaction time. For the last year, I have been concerned that if I started to open up my soul, that the wounds exposed would take me out. And, after the River of Tears on Thursday night, it's not an unreasonable concern. I am a weary little soldier.
And yet.
There is still hope in this most hopeless situation. I have no freaking idea why, but there is. It bursts over me, like a break in the clouds, way too infrequently, but unmistakable when it happens. I was in a parking lot yesterday walking toward my car, and BAM! There is was. A long-term vision of hope, in a microsecond of the virtual clouds parting. Hard to explain, but I smiled from the inside out for that moment. And it gave me enough to to hold onto through the next few hours. Manna for the day. Not when I look to The Husband, because my heart just disintegrates when I focus on him. But when I keep my hands on the wheel, on God, and his Word, I have so much crazy peace.
Which is why I know it's hard for me to spend time with Him each day, because the enemy has had me for so long. He is putting on a serious fight to not give me up. My family has been in his clutches for generations, and I am like the little bon-bon he's been waiting to pop in his mouth for dessert. So how DARE I go and find God, and then try to break out of destructive habits. Well, fcuk him. And the horse he rode in on. I will NOT live another year of my life this way. Ultimately, this is not about my marriage (although it does feel that way most days). It's about my life and my legacy to my kids.
I know God said there would be suffering, and He doesn't guarantee happiness. The Husband likes to hang his hat on that lately, but I think God wants our marriages to be a testimony to His glory. Not everyone's is, obviously, but I'm willing to let Him rock the happiness factor. I've been a sh!tty wife at times, he's been a sh!tty husband at times. I'm going to throw my hat in the ring, even if The Husband cannot right now. It's yank up the bootstraps time. One of those I believe! Help my unbelief! kind of times.Labels: introspection, relational |
| posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 12:55 AM |
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| Saturday, January 06, 2007 |
| A Year in Emails |
Sometime last month, I read through a year's worth of late-night emails between The Husband and myself from December 05 to December 06. The following are snippets culled from those emails. There was plenty of difficult stuff, especially in the beginning when the affair was ongoing. BUT I only pulled the positive phrases that passed between us, starting at that very ugly time in our lives until the most recent of difficulties.
Reading these emails, I think, who are these people? they seem happy, supportive, and loving to each other even in the most horrible times. It makes me want to cry in retrospect. look at the good words between them. they were so much further along than you gave them credit for. At least via email. Face time was not as successful for some reason.
I don't expect ya'll to understand each reference, but this is posted mainly for my enjoyment.
The Husband is in bold and I am in italics.
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Thank you very much for this. You have said exactly how I feel. [after an email I sent to someone in defense of him]
I know you are a good man in your deepest places. You don't think I feel that way, and we both are having serious trust issues with each other, which makes us rear up and be ugly.
My heart is still close to yours and you are wonderful, handsome, witty, creative, fun, smart, capable, generous and strong. God has gifted you with all of this to survive and thrive and bring Glory to Him. You are a precious son to him, the apple of His eye. You are a child of the King my sweetie. Don't forget that or let anyone tell you you are not.
I'll try and remember all of that. Very hard these days, you know?
Maybe God is giving me more material for my book?
I'm so sorry I've made you feel like this. God can do wondrous things, and as long as He is around there is still hope. Not saying anything here but just take it one day at a time.
Just give everything time. I don't know what is going to happen. Who knows? All I know is that we have two beautiful kids together. And we both love them very much. That's really all I know right now. We are a team here, no matter what is going on between us and no matter what our future holds. We owe it to [the children].
This is a part of being married to you, the frustration you have when a project is not going smoothly and I want (and ask) to help, and you block the play. would you have me do anything differently when this happens? i'd like to know. every time i leave you alone in these situations, it feels like a cop-out
Thanks for wanting to help tonight.
Hard to believe someone thinks I am right about something.
Thanks for all you do for us
I am where I need to be. I don't want to be where I don't need to be. [after she-who-shall-not-be-named-nor-capitalized tried to re-establish contact with him]
You are in the palm of God's hand.
I truly am glad for your company, whether it's across the room, entirely in another floor of the house, at least in the same city, or wherever. And I truly appreciate your nice words tonight and the effort it took to reach out with them. Thank you
I am here standing beside of you.
Jeremiah 29:11-12
For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you."
I found this encouraging tonight.
You did your best. That's all you can do. No worries. God knows what we need.
Thanks for being my support.
I remain,
Proud of you
And thanks for your encouragement. It means more than you know :)
You know, without your encouragement, despite the huge blow I inflicted on you, I don't know how I could be able to piece all of this together and stay sane.
You are very sweet to say this to me, I appreciate it. I have always
been your biggest fan, just never let you in on it before I guess. I
apologize for that.
We are moving forward in a good direction, I think.
This is fixable. The whole thing.
I listened to this song frequently during most of January, praying that you would want to re-build. Just listened to it again, and was reminded that I am so thankful for your heart for our marriage. I never thought two of us would want it, but two of us do, and that's an answered prayer. Even when it's crazy-hard and 'bigger than we thought'
Great lyrics. Exactly how I feel and how it is. We can do this.
Know you're busy, just like sending emails to you to encourage you: I am really proud of you (have I said that enough?)
oh, it's fun to see your name in my Inbox :)
Goodnight and sweet dreams!
That's the goal. To hold your hand and finish the race with you, laughing.
I am all for that.
Celebrating you,
me
I appreciate your efforts to be a great Mom. I know they do too.
Today's bible verse, BTW:
Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Galatians 6:9
You're right, this is my theme song for the first couple of months of this year. I have come a long way since then. We have come a long way since then.
i am always amazed at how you tend do the right thing even when it's hard and you don't want to. thanks for sharing parts of your day and parts of your thoughts with me
Want to be a godly man. I do so many things wrong, but the hard thing is always the right thing and ends up being the best thing in the long run.
Thinking of - and thankful for - you.
It was a good night. Maybe we'll do it again sometime.
Just trying to show you I do think you're pretty, and worth the effort.
I think you're really great. Have I said that before? Well I'll say
it again. I'm humbled by your effort
I hope you know I am proud of you.
Have you noticed that I am not emailing you at night telling you to go to bed? I know that irks you, so I stopped.
Thank you, that's very sweet. look forward to feeling you behind me.
I like you
That's a good thing.
Lucky for you :D
And you too, since you're stuck with me.
It does not matter how slowly you go, so long as you do not stop -Confucius
Move like a turtle--[The Husband]
BTW, yesterday was 6 months for you. Thanks.
it has been better lately.
She's so pretty.
She looks like her Mommy.
you are a kick-a$$ businessman and i am your groupie. God is good
I am here for you.
Thank you for spending time with me tonight; I needed some of that
Do you want get a babysitter for Sat. night? Maybe [restaurant] and then a walk downtown?
I always like to hear about your day and what's going on, I'm
grateful when you share. I appreciate you. When you come to bed tonight
will you hold me for a few minutes and let me feel safe against your chest and protected in your arms just for a time? I'd like that.
I will definitely hold you tonight.
Everyone wishes they could go back and undo the things they have done wrong, but part of the healing is moving forward and enjoying the progress and seeing how far along on the map one has come.
1 Peter 5:10
NIV:
10And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.
Message:
So keep a firm grip on the faith. The suffering won't last forever. It won't be long before this generous God who has great plans for us in Christ—eternal and glorious plans they are!—will have you put together and on your feet for good.
Name one thing that I could do on a regular basis to make your life easier and happier.
i may be covered in red powder, but i'm the wife who loves you, who wants to be in a solid, laughing marriage with you. maybe you'll never see me w/out seeing your own hurt, but for now i choose to believe you will. and that i will too.
Good Morning!
I wanted to tell you that I think you are a really good [profession], and I know you are making a difference at your work. You should be proud of what you are doing. I am proud of you : )
Discussing our relationship is extremely important to me. I hope you know that.
Trust God
I do. I will.
I am encouraged very much by their movement, via intimacy, towards a relationship that has been wrong for a long time.
Thanks for sending this to me. : )
2 Corinthians 8:12
"For if the willingness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has, not according to what he does not have."
Thank your for what you are willing to give to us/me. The gift of you is ACCEPTABLE and I am grateful for you. I hope you'll feel safe enough one day to know that.
Thanks for this. I do feel appreciated by you, but it will take some time to feel accepted by anyone
I care about you so much. I believe I am much further along towards moving to you
the part about standing for myself under the guise of standing for the marriage, when you were the one who wouldn't stand for anything less than the real thing.
I really hope we can work through this. I still have a lot of hope and care about you a great deal.Labels: relational |
| posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 3:26 AM |
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| Thursday, January 04, 2007 |
| Real Love |
I am finding such insightful things lately that I want to post here. I didn't write this myself, but sure wish I had. It was a Wow moment. I have several Wows a week recently. Revelation and self-awareness is making me yawn alot. It's all the beating-into-submission I have to do with my hopes, desires, and expectations. Re-routing a detour around my usual emotional highway is taking a toll (pardon the pun. highway? toll? ha. I am tired)
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Anger is always caused by selfishness (which is one of the biggest destroyers of real love)- and expectations often lead to anger.
I just read a book called "Real Love" by Greg Baer- maybe it's just because it fell in my hands at exactly the right time in my present journey through grief and darkness- but this is one of the most powerful books I have ever read. I also just ordered the follow-up, which is specifically about marriage. One thing the author believes is that anger (including freak-outs) is/are always "wrong".
One can argue about that, but he makes a pretty strong case that such behavior always springs from selfishness and is not only not treating someone with "real love"- it effectively/tragically precludes real love. I know that such behaviors from myself- however infrequent and mild they were- were exactly what caused my beloved to leave and stay gone. None of us can ever be perfect- but I think most of us can do a lot better than we do. I think I've come so far and then find myself screwing up- getting pissed off at ridiculous things.
I do think "die to self" is the key to love. And that paradoxically, being as unselfish and giving and loving as possible, will bring us the greatest joy of all: real love.Labels: introspection, other people's words, relational |
| posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 12:00 AM |
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| Saturday, December 02, 2006 |
| It's the End of the World as We Know It, and I Feel - |
- well, contrary to what Michael Stipe would have me sing, I do not feel "fine" about the end of the world as we know it.
The Husband mentioned something the other day that kept prodding me into thought. Why, he asked, does it always take the End of the World for you to realize you need to change?
Good question. Just one year ago this week he said in a long distance phone call, "I think we need to separate" and completely rocked my world and all I that knew to be solid. I realized then, at the End of the World, many of my faults in this marriage and my focus narrowed to my family; every other peripheral thing fell away. I flew across the country to fight for my husband, but I lost that battle. Partly because I wasn't entirely forthcoming, and neither was The Husband. He was physically unfaithful two days after I left, but had been emotionally unfaithful long enough. I discovered this relationship pre-sex but didn't tell him, just tried to get him to fess up on his own. He denied anything else influencing his decision to end the marriage. We both lied. We both lost. Long story, that I still hope The Husband will tell you himself. But if not, we'll go there eventually.
Yet. I still handled things poorly in many areas. Blah, blah. You've heard it all before from me, I know. My world fell to bits. Then my husband decided suddenly to stay in the marriage and broke off the affair after being knee-deep for over a month while back at home. It happened so quickly I was astounded, and sadly, unconvinced that he was truly choosing me. I wondered, is he staying because I am the one with the income now? Is he here just for the children? I could not simply rest in the fact that, number one: he made a godly decision, and number 2: I was worthy of choosing. The comparison/contrast to an invisible-to-me "perfect" woman, coupled with the all-too-many emails I had read between them (fcuking torture), on top of my basic "protect thyself" default mode from childhood...recipe for disaster. Could not see the Big Picture because I was so freaked out over the whole situation.
So, I go behind my Protect Thyself wall, and lob grenades at The Husband. For, oh, about a year. Every argument, disagreement, tough discussion, I throw something mean at him and likely bring up the affair, or something he said to her, or something he said about me to her, or - you get the idea. Never letting him crawl out of his hole, and be safe with me, because I was always verbally kicking his a$$. A walk-by knifing, he once described these verbal daggers. I completely lost perspective on how to work through this together. I kept my lifelong position of me-versus-you, rather than being a partner to him. I wonder now if I was ever one. Grenade lobbing continues, and then, oh, hello - it's the End of the World again.
The Husband is physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted, and pretty much sick of being married to me. Again. And - again - I have a big fat revelation of my wrong-doing and want to change. See the pattern? We do, too. We're sick of it, too.
I have no good end to this post, I just wanted to get these thoughts out of my head and :::splat::: them out here so they'll quit haunting me. Consider yourselves my receptacle today.Labels: introspection, past tense, relational |
| posted by Adventures in Stepford @ 5:49 PM |
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| Monday, November 27, 2006 |
| Let the Pontificating Begin |
Our holiday was quite bad, and once again I slipped and fell (hard, and in front of his family) in my efforts to not be a complete a$$.
A little back info: two Saturdays ago, my MIL confronted me at the end of a daylong visit re: my wanting to leave the marriage. She hit a few hot buttons, for example: that what I thinking of doing was as bad, if not worse, than what The Husband had done. I was so shocked by this one statement that I was agog for the rest of the time she spoke. And of course she touched on what a divorce would do to the children (the whole argument we all gave The Husband when it was his turn to want out last year). Anyway, the inlaws left shortly thereafter and went home, and this no doubt contributed to triggering my inner Butth | | | |
