My heart may be broken, but I didn’t cry...

A while back, someone told me about the movie “Regarding Henry.” I don’t remember who. It was in the midst of the haze--the months when I couldn’t help but be someone else, because it was as if I had fallen, hit my head, become unconscious. I was tied to this man in marriage, and when he was injured, so was I.

Someone looked into the haze, and something I said about the days sitting in a hospital, talking to a comatose invalid who didn’t even know who I was... something I said made this person think of the movie. I mentioned that I had picked the DVD up from a yard sale, but had never watched it. “Should I?” I asked.

This person was quick to reply, “No! Not now. Maybe later, but now it would probably be too close to home. It would make you cry.”

Since Todd cleaned out our bank account and made it clear that he has no intent to share any of his disability money with the family, I have been struggling to figure out how I’m going to pay all the bills. 

“Whose money is that?” he asked when I mentioned the disability money he had transferred out of the family account right when the mortgage was coming due. (Even though he’s staying with a friend rent-free.) 

It’s too soon to turn the kids’ lives upside down by going out and getting a regular full-time outside-of-the-home job yet... not in the midst of all this turmoil, not in the middle of the holidays... So, I’m selling things. Anything I can.

My wedding ring paid for a month of indoor plumbing. Two days after we moved back in the house, the water was scheduled to be cut off (because Todd had intercepted the mail I was having held at the post office so I could keep up with the bills, and he had ignored the water bill, allowing late fees to accrue.) 

A month of indoor plumbing: That’s what it came to. Over two decades of marriage, and the symbol of that union boiled down to being worth no more than a month’s worth of showers and flushes of the toilet.

The two are inextricably connected in my mind now: my wedding ring and the ability to flush the crap out of my life; my wedding ring OR the ability to flush the crap out of my life. Take your pick. You can’t have both. It’s profound, I think. I’ve always loved a good metaphor. I don’t think I could have ever dreamed that one up on my own.

The month of flushes has passed. Now I need to pay the bills without the asset of a wedding ring. (The metaphor goes on.) I have to find other things to sell. Since there’s a good chance that we’ll end up losing the house, I figured I might as well sell even the little things... even if they don’t make a big dent in the bills, it will be less to move or less to put in storage as I try to sort out what goes and what stays in this new life. So, I’m listing some of our DVDs on E-bay.

“Regarding Henry.” I still hadn’t watched it, but I listed it... and since I hate to waste anything, I decided I’d watch it before letting it go. Would it make me cry? I’ve cried enough. Why be a fool and induce more? But I was lonely, and sometimes movies make the best of friends. I felt like crying with a friend would be preferable to being alone. Maybe a good, identifiable movie would be like a shoulder to cry on.

As I watched Annette Benning’s character sitting by the bedside of her character’s husband (played by Harrison Ford--Hans Solo) ...first in the I.C.U., then in a regular hospital room, then a rehabilitation hospital... the journey portrayed was very familiar. But I didn’t cry. It was factual. Not emotional. Benning said, “I think this is teaching me to be strong,” and I nodded.

As Harrison’s character rehabilitated, the familiarity dwindled. He was inconsiderate and selfish before his brain injury, but his blow to the head made him nicer, more empathetic, and less selfish. Ah, the imagination of a screenwriter! I remember one nurse telling me that the injury would likely change Todd... warning me that things could be worse--that head injury victims frequently get mean.

I asked her the hypothetical question: “What if things were bad before the accident?”

“Well,” she said. “He could get nicer.”

I asked if that sort of thing happened often... she shook her head. 

As I experienced Todd’s agitation through every step of recovery--beginning with the long hours of trying to keep him from pulling off his restraints, when he would shove one hand in his pants in search of feces as the other hand grabbed at his IV and ventilator lines... He would get so upset when I tried to keep him from doing himself harm or creating an unsanitary (and stinky) mess--I dreaded his return home too soon.

Benning’s character couldn’t wait to get her husband home. She had something I didn’t have. 

Todd wanted to come home long before I was ready to receive him. And he was bright enough to figure out what it would take: He needed to “be good.” He stated that understanding repeatedly, and he strove to “be good” for the rehabilitation staff. I liked having them in the room because he would be nice when they were there. Maybe there was hope that the slim chance the nurse had mentioned--of a brain injury making a person nicer--might be the miracle my family would experience...

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Fast forward. We know which direction that one went!

So, I’m watching the movie alone in my bed. Watching Ford’s character become kind and noble. Near the end, Benning embraces Ford, and something sparkles. A big sparkle. It’s a honking big diamond ring on Benning’s hand. She still had that symbol. He still loved her. Perhaps he loved her more than ever.

Bridget and Todd’s story is different.

I was reading through the transcript of our court case--seeing all the blatant lies Todd told to make himself look good at the expense of both his wife and his daughter’s reputations--at the expense of the chance of either one of them ever trusting him again.

It was sad, but I didn’t cry.

This is factual. My finger is empty. It has been empty for a long time. Even from the start, it was only the bare minimum that Todd could get away with. Even then, I should have seen that he was willing to spend all sorts of money on himself, and yet he would half-heartedly apologize for the diamond on my ring being so small. It didn’t matter to me because I was busy “writing” a romance. Facts didn’t matter. Emptiness could be filled with the swoop of my imagination.

I tried to embrace Todd, to hope for the best, to believe he could change... but when I tentatively reached my arms around him, there was no sparkle... no glimmer. 

My hand is empty.

I have another date!

Woo hoo. the excitement. 

No, it's not that kind of date. It's a court date.

The victim's advocate from the D.A.'s office thought I had a pretty good case for a restraining/kick-out order to put an end to Todd's squatting and get our kids back in their house... But when she called Todd to warn him about last week's court date, he didn't answer... and because of that, the judge didn't consider him adequately warned and temporarily denied the move-out portion of the restraining order. I had to have him served with papers for the restraining order and notice about another court date this coming week to determine if there will be a move-out order or not. That means staying with friends for at least another week.

So he will probably be in court this time. And he's going to have plenty of time to pick his lawyer relative's brain before then about how to look out for number one. I could be worried about it. Perhaps I am... but I'm also resigned to making the best of whatever the judge says. I'm not going into it as optimistically as I did with the last court date. He may very well rule against me, but that wouldn't be the end of the world. It may mean losing more financially, but it will only serve to fast-track the loss so I can move on to the recovery. 

I'll Send Todd Half the Bill...

The jacuzzi felt great tonight. I hated using the credit card, but I guess it's pretty good to have made it almost a month away from home before resorting to using the plastic. 

As Todd would say, "It's too hard asking people to stay with them." After a month, I finally decided to give myself a break from doing something night after night that Todd can't even begin to do. I did call one person who had earlier said we could stay with her... but she had other company, and besides that... she's re-thought her position and is now convinced that I'm doing the wrong thing. Oh well... there will be those who will not understand. It is not my job to make them understand. 

When I got back to the room from the jacuzzi and took my wet swimsuit off, I decided to wait until my daughter calls and says she's here to get dressed. What a way to celebrate not having to make anyone understand! 

Have to go, now... I'm going to enjoy every dollar's worth of this solitude, not being in someone else's house. The cool thing is... when I'm forced to file the divorce papers, Todd will have to pay for half of this hotel bill. 

This is where I will wake up for my four week "weekiversary" of leaving Todd. In the morning, the day will be new. I will be new. 

Life is Good...

It's not about circumstances. That's for sure.

I'm sick. My throat is sore, nose is running like a river, eyes sting, body aches... I'm sleeping on an air mattress on a strange floor. I've been having trouble concentrating on my work. My husband is self-centered enough to stand willingly by and allow his wife and children to be homeless even when he could do something about it. I have no idea where we'll be staying 48 hours from now.

But life hasn't been this good in a very long time.

Why?

Because I'm being honest. And honesty feels so good.

I have hope.

Why would I want to hop back on the wheel?

I Need Input... PLEASE

Should I, or should I not "threaten" legal action before taking legal action?

I'm planning on filing a restraining/kick-out order if Todd doesn't get his butt in gear and find a place to so his kids can return to their home... 

• Should I be specific in advance? 
• Should I let him know that if it's "too hard"for him to live somewhere else so the kids can be in the house, his inaction will actually force me to file for divorce sooner rather than later? 
• Or is it better not to alert him to the action I plan on taking and give him the chance to be premeditatively nasty?

All you silent lurkers, please speak up this time. And give me the "why" behind your answer. There is wisdom to be gleaned from a multitude of counselors. 

Dear Todd,

Dismantling the Facade

A friend just asked me an interesting question. She wondered how long it would be before some of Todd's friends start noticing that he isn't even making an effort. Is his public persona so polished that they won't even realize?

That got me to thinking about Todd's friendships. I don't know how deep any of them are. He has his band mates, and they have begun to hang out more since the accident, but I don't know that any of them have been exposed to the full spectrum of Todd. After the accident, people he used to play music with a long time ago, but never kept in touch with thereafter, started coming out of the woodwork. The draw to the needy can really give a person a sense of validation and worth, and of course this victim status suits Todd well because he always did want the world to revolve around him.

But when I thought about reciprocity, I couldn't think of any friend I had ever witnessed Todd going out of his way to be generous toward. There were far more memories of him dodging phone calls when he thought someone might want him to help with something (even if it was a person who had helped him repeatedly.) 

I thought about all of those people Todd had played music with in years gone by, and couldn't help but realize that the reason many of them saw Todd as being a "generous man" was because of the family image he held up--we were his excuse for not helping others... after all, he did so much for his family! 

How much of that image was a result of my efforts and simply allowing him to share credit for something he put relatively little work into building? How many times did I work myself to the point of exhaustion, and then let him come in at the fun point and take the glory? Much of the time, I didn't mind, because I was still deluded by the idea that we were a team.... but now, as I have heard him presenting all the parenting failures in the family as being totally mine, I realize what a monster my unwitting enabling created... the sort of monster who squats in a house that he refuses to share with his unworthy family. He is entitled to the comforts of home. We are not.

Will his friends eventually see that he is not making an effort? I don't know. If the past is any indication, any who start to see through his act will promptly be discarded as "crazy." If it weren't so sick and so sad, one could almost be entertained by the delusional games. 

I'm not a trained professional, so I can't verify a diagnosis of Bi-Polar and/or Narcissistic Personality Disorder (even though when I read about them, I do feel as if the authors have been spying on our interactions...) One thing is for sure, Todd truly is a case study in something. Whether any of his friends will ever be around long enough to see through the veil of faux reality, I don't know... but it will be interesting to see how he is able to keep up his generous image while blocking his family out of our home. I guess the only way will be to paint me as a liar. The thing is: If I had a part in constructing that veil, then the dismantling of my part of it should expose the unreality of the very thing that he has been using as his identity.

He may not realize how dependent he is on me to hold up his image. In pushing the limits with me and forcing me to more drastic action than I may have had to otherwise jump to, he may be dismantling his own facade. I was willing to let him move out quietly and separate under the no-fault banner of irreconcilable differences, but it looks like he is going to force me to file a restraining order.

Guess I shouldn't be surprised that I have to do all the work...

Poor Todd. How ever does he manage?

He doesn't want it to "look" like he's deserting his family, so he sits in the family house, knowing full well we will not come home with him there. We continue to be displaced. He continues to do nothing about it. 

All I ask of him is that he find a place to stay while he sorts out his anger issues. What an opportunity to show that he is capable of thinking of someone other than himself! And what does he do with the opportunity? Sits on his butt, once again, waiting for me to do something. That should come as no surprise...

I know, he would say he's been busy. I checked the phone "notes" app. and found a few "to do" lists and just had to share: 

What a stressful day!

"On-line time, friends, exercises..." 
oops, the fact that his children are homeless must have just slipped his mind... 
Hmmm, can you say "priorities"?

I Want to Go Home

I had a dream the other night that all my belongings were in my car (along with a bunch of money I don't really have). My boys and I were driving along a country road just outside of one of the midwestern towns where I grew up. We didn't know where we were going to stay, but happened upon a little cafe with a welcoming glow and live music spilling out it's open door. With nowhere else to go, we entered the establishment and soaked up the friendly ambiance.

Staying until closing, I stepped out the door confident that it had been worth taking this little break, even if it meant sleeping in the car tonight. That's when the shocker came....

An empty curb...

             ...where my loaded car had been. 

I woke up and stared at the ceiling, looking past the teenage boy-band posters on the wall of the room in which my air mattress found it's temporary station. My youngest daughter was there with me, my sons were still asleep on the hide-a-bed in the next room, and my car was parked safely in the driveway, loaded down with our junk, like in the dream (but without the imaginary cash). I was grateful. We were not sleeping on the streets, and at least the four of us were under the same roof for the time-being.

The dream, however, haunted me throughout the day yesterday. Was it merely the expression of my fears of this displacement going on until we've used up our welcome and have nowhere to turn, or did it have some deep meaning or warning I need to heed? 

As I drove back to the place I was staying last night, I thought about how a few hours earlier the fact that I had extracted certain files from my house (so that I didn't have to worry about Todd rifling through them or destroying them) had brought me such comfort. The comfort suddenly shifted to an extreme feeling of vulnerability. Those files were in my vehicle. As the dream had demonstrated, a vehicle is not the safest storage place. And there are other keys to this vehicle. My mind started running through questions about where those other keys were. I knew I had hidden some of them, but might my older daughters have left one in a place where Todd could find it? Another event multiplied these feelings of vulnerability: 

A few hours earlier, my youngest daughter had called me in total panic. "Daddy is here," she had said. She was at church youth group, a place that has been a haven of safety for her, and he showed up with a friend whose daughter was playing in the band. I texted his friend, who apparently knew nothing about our "little problems" and had just brought Todd along to see the band play. My daughter just left, but she was shaken up by this safe place being invaded by the nightmare she had fled. Todd's friend had no clue what was going on and told him about my text (which alerted him to the fact that our daughter was indeed there and had seen him and had a problem with it.) Todd texted our daughter, saying, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you would be there. I hope we can work this out."

She told me this on the phone as I was driving. "I hope we can work this out..." I thought, If you really want to do that, just getting out of the house so we can go home would go a long way.

I'm wondering if I should tell him that? Maybe that would give him false hope -- as in thinking that that and going to counseling are an automatic recipe to get back "his life." He probably doesn't even realize how far beyond "a long way" we have to go for him to even gain a sliver of trust.

Something's got to give, though. My biggest questions are: How much more do I say (if anything) before getting a restraining/kick-out order? Do I tell him that's going to happen in advance, or surprise him with it? 

I want to go home and have a comfortable, safe place for my kids where we can function and live.

Unique Flaws... Unique Gifts

A few days ago I was examining my part in the marital failure of Todd-n-I, and I considered the possibility that "abuser" might be an unfair label for Todd, because "Realistically, I know he gets frustrated with things that are uniquely me." Maybe he would be nicer to someone who didn't have my unique and annoying traits. 

When a friend asked me to identify those things uniquely me that Todd would find so annoying, I discovered something potentially "ground breaking." There are personal qualities I have covered with shame because of the pain they have caused me in conflict with Todd. I think I should be able to rid myself of them or bury them and "be strong." The interesting thing is, however, that this shame only seems to exist when the qualities are examined in the context of relationship with Todd or others like him. The more I looked at these qualities away from Todd, the more times I recalled others expressing appreciation (even celebration) of those same traits I was labeling flaws. 

Today I discovered an old Psychology Today article by Ken Page, L.C.S.W. that confirmed the sense that conforming to Todd would only serve to destroy who I am deep down inside... and that the person I am at the "core" is not only valid, but also a gift (or a collections of gifts wherein in my very soul resides).

"Core gifts are not the same as talents or skills. In fact, until we understand them, they often feel like shameful weaknesses, or as parts of ourselves too vulnerable to expose. Yet they are where our soul lives. They are like the bone marrow of our psyche, generating a living stream of impulses toward intimacy and authentic self-expression. But gifts aren't hall-passes to happiness. They get us into trouble again and again. We become most defensive-or most naïve-around them. They challenge us and the people we care about. They ask more of us than we want to give. And we can be devastated when we feel them betrayed or rejected." 

                                             http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/finding-love/201109/how-our-insecurities-can-reveal-our-deepest-gifts 

This realization is "ground breaking" in that I have come to realize how much of myself I have had to bury simply to survive life with Todd. The crust that has formed may have made the eruptions of self even more concentrated and in stark contrast to the "Bridget" Todd wants to acknowledge, these glimpses of something different, something outside of his control, are targets to be attacked. 

I don't want to bury my soul any more. To find those with whom I can freely express and practice its unique gifting would be revolutionary. Refusing to be entangled with those who only want to accept an image is critical. Perhaps Todd is content sitting at home without us because he still has his "airbrushed version" of us with him. We left that behind on September 10, and he can have it... even if it means us giving up our house. We will make a home, my children and I -- a home where we can be intimate and real, a home where we honor the soul. 

Keep Calm...

In honor of those who are reminding me to keep calm...

I'm calm... and I'm not.

I'm scared... and yet I'm confident.

In the moment, I may waiver. I just pray that I don't waiver in a critical moment, and thus give Todd ammunition to use against me.

In the long run, everything will be okay, because 

"work things out" 

is what I do.

Yes, I have panicked, but I always pull myself together and trudge on.

Skipping past the panic is today's goal.

I will keep my emotions intact, intact for healthy relationships.

But I will keep my emotions in check when dealing with those who cannot be trusted.

May I keep my eyes wide open and see the difference.

Thank you for caring enough to remind me to be calm...
You have no idea how much your support means to me.

Sometimes your words come right at that moment when I'm about to waiver.

Sometimes your words remind me of who I am when I'm about to forget.

And when you've seen me on the verge of flatlining 
and reminded me that my emotions are valid 
(in an environment of trust, of course),
 that has resuscitated my spirit and brought me hope.

Learning who can't be trusted may be painful, but on the flip side, we also learn who can be trusted... 
and that is beautiful.

How Many Half-Persons Does It Take to Screw in a Lightbulb?

As I've been grappling with hard questions about my relationship with Todd, myself in my relationship with Todd, and relationships in general (especially the things that make some healthy and some toxic), I've gone back to thinking about movies, as is my habit. When I think about all the movies that present the most dysfunctional of relationships as "romantic," it's no wonder so many relationships are messed up!

I'm only going to mention one for now: Jerry Macguire and the famous line, "You complete me." 

• Q: How many half-persons does it take to screw in a lightbulb? 
• A: I don't know, but I do know that it only takes one or two to screw up a relationship.... 

We need to be complete as individuals before we can be part of a healthy relationship.

So, in appreciation of that fact, I give you... the line.... Take away the pretty faces and see how ridiculous it is?

What Would It Take to Get Me Back?

Some people have insinuated that I'm being unfair to Todd by not calling him or telling him what he would have to do to get us back.  One pastor went to visit Todd and had the audacity to call me up and, based on that one little visit, say that he didn't believe Todd posed any threat to the children or me.  So that's all it takes to surrender your trust to someone?  A cursory glance at the surface?  Really?  

This is going to take some time, and I'm not going to let anyone guilt me into taking hasty action.  As I've said before: Todd has my phone number, I haven't turned my phone off, and I've already spelled out our problems over and over in the past, only to be ignored.  I've  stated them, addressed them in letters, and poured out my heart in the private journal he violated...  He knows what to do.  It just doesn't fit into his self-centered MOA.

It has occurred to me that Todd would have to really woo me and wow me to ever break through the protective barriers to my heart that I have built up in response to him.  I am leery, cynical, ultra-cautious...  Anyone who wants to break through would have a tough row to hoe.  

I stumbled upon this blog about Dating After Narcissistic Abuse, and it got me to thinking... not about dating, because, like the author, I am serious when I say "I would rather BE ALONE than ever go through an abusive relationship like I had with [Todd] the narcissist."  It got me thinking that even though I don't believe Todd could ever fix things so as to regain my trust, that since the only slim chance would include wooing me all over again (with the distinct disadvantage of my eyes being wide open this time) some of the points in this article might apply.  (Not that I'd even accept a "date" with him...)

The blog author broke down her dating process into three points:  

Number 1 -- Going Slow because "I VALUE MY INTIMACY."  That means not moving back in with Todd because some pastor who has probably never been abused a day in his life says it "should be okay." 

Number 2 -- Discernment -- thinking, asking good, thorough questions to determine if the person is worthy of trust.  And getting answers -- real answers.  (It takes time -- and reexamination -- to run the lie detector.)

Number 3 -- Boundaries -- "Maintaining two very separate identities," and (I LOVE this) "Not being responsible for someone else's moods," and "Not taking the bait to save or rescue. Caring for someone with considering myself and being sure that my need for reciprocity is met."

http://afternarcissisticabuse.wordpress.com/2012/09/20/dating-after-narcissistic-abuse-2/ 

Those things are crucial.  There can be no short-cuts, especially when one is starting out with so many penalties.  

2012 Dawns

Marital Failure and Self Worth

I'm struggling today.  With all the things I'm responsible for, it is difficult being away from my home.  Don't get me wrong -- it's nice being away from Todd and not having to walk on eggshells, but the displacement is still wearing on me.  When my daughter told me Todd had sent her an apology, I realized that he could make steps that would prompt others to say that we should move back in with him.  It doesn't take much to convince some people.  What would it take to convince me?

Am I a bad person to have given up hope for Todd to ever become the sort of person I would want to live with?  Maybe I'm not all that great to live with, either.  It's weird.  Even though I feel such resolve to stand firm and not allow myself to be sucked back into that codependent lifestyle, I still feel badly.  Maybe it's that annoying image that I said was so important to Todd.  How important is it to me?

I've started to understand why some women return -- like dogs to their vomit -- to verbally or emotionally abusive men.  This process is hard.  It gets exhausting.  The reminders of failure weigh heavily, and even though I know Todd has been wrong in how he has treated me, I still doubt my worth in regard to anything better.  Could I possibly give in to the pressure to "make things work" no matter the cost?  It would be death, I'm sure of it. 

I'm trying to be fair to Todd.  I don't want to be self-righteous and smug, like I'm some sort of a dream to live with -- like our problems are all one sided.  I got to thinking... just because I feel abused doesn't mean Todd is an abuser who would abuse just anyone.  Realistically, I know he gets frustrated with things that are uniquely me.  I've tried to change those things, but my efforts never seem to be good enough.  Todd could have married someone who wouldn't have annoyed him so much, and maybe he would have been nicer to her.  

I've been doing inventory and asking myself a lot of questions.  How much of our problem is due to my own shortcomings?  I hate that "blame game" Todd is so insistent on playing, and yet... am I solely blaming Todd for our failed marriage?

"Irreconcilable Differences" seems to be a kinder and gentler term than "Emotional Abuse."  

In the midst of writing this, I finally receive a text from Todd.  "I hope all is going well with you there today."  That's supposed to fix everything, isn't it?  He cares.  Why do I doubt?  But then I stumble upon a quote from that Dangerous Man book:

"...many women who learn what pathology is seem to believe that they and their man are exceptions to the rule.  This belief is manifest in their attempts to change the dangerous man or some aspect of him.  They choose not to accept years of psychological research....  Since the pathological man will never change, the next step the woman takes is to try to change herself to make the pathological relationship easier to cope with.  Disaster can be the only outcome when a woman tries to conform to a pathological and abnormal relationship." p. 18, Sandra L. Brown, M.A., How to Spot a Dangerous Man Before You Get Involved

I want to answer his message: "All is going well--except for the fact that the children and I are displaced from our home and trying to function in work and school as best we can given the circumstances.  It is worth the inconvenience, however, not to be walking on eggshells to avoid provoking an angry outburst."  Another reply could include something about how nice things must be in his house, now that we're not there to frustrate him.  But I know I have to be smart and strategic.  Perhaps I should give this more thought before responding.  It did, after all, take him over a week to come up with that one line.  

I'm tired.    

Tough Times Inspire Great Poetry

Marital Spats in the Age of Technology

I left my husband a week ago and we haven't spoken with each other since (nor have we texted or emailed or chatted or IM'd....)  How is it then, that I feel like we just had a huge fight?

We each use the "Notes" application on our phones. This application, being tied to an email address (or addresses) can also tie together every cell phone that uses a common email address for the application.  I have several email addresses that I use on my phone.  One of them is the "family" address, which Todd also uses.  I'm not sure if he is technologically savvy enough to switch back and forth between addresses depending on the content of his notes.  His notes are mostly boring old shopping lists or wish lists, but when I had all accounts showing on my Notes list, one particular title stood out:

"Why Does Bridget..."

Hmm, I thought, that didn't sound familiar.  I clicked on it, not realizing it was actually Todd's note.

It turned out to be a critique of my parenting.  "Why does Bridget allow [our son] to eat junk?" and he proceeded to make a list of all the junk the boy apparently ate on a particular day.  I don't remember the boy eating all he listed... probably because I was WORKING, and not sitting on my butt looking for fault to list in my Notes.

I started to add on to the note in reply, answering his question with a string of questions.

Why, as a parent, was he observing this and critiquing rather than participating? ...but then I remembered, since the only way he seems to know to "discipline" is in anger, maybe I shouldn't ask a question that would only invite abuse.  I thought better of it and backspaced it out.  

Take a deep breath, Bridget.  Pity him.  Pity is more appropriate than anger.  

He told our daughter that he can see that it would probably be better if he were not around us, but he doesn't want to be perceived as having deserted his family.  There's that concept again: Perception.  Once again, image is more important than honesty, or his children's ability to grow up in a safe, loving environment.  He doesn't want to look bad.

He may very well wait for me to make the first move.  Then he can play the victim.

Turning the page and moving forward...

Time for Bed

I slept on a hide-a-bed last night. Tonight I will sleep in the twin bed of a teenager who's giving up her room for me. Tomorrow, I'm not sure where I'll sleep. Don't want to overstay my welcome anywhere. My boys are sleeping on the hide-a-bed tonight, and my youngest daughter will be on air mattress on the floor in the room with me. 

Todd is sleeping in a comfortable king-sized bed back at the house... HIS house. Last time I slept in that bed was a few months ago when he was in the hospital.

This is my "blah, I'm exhausted" way of telling you that I left Todd. Surprise! Wait, I don't have the energy for an exclamation mark. Don't need one anyway, because to those who know what's been going on, it's no surprise. Or is it? Maybe you thought I'd never do it.

I know a lot of women who have left for a night, maybe two... and ended up right back where they were before they went through the inconvenience of displacing themselves. I'm determined not to be one of them. So I must stand firm. 

Todd crossed an unacceptable line in the eyes of many in society. He crossed a line I never should have accepted years before that. In the midst of an angry tirade, he grabbed our youngest daughter's wrists in a manner that hurt and frightened her. He had already frightened our youngest son when he was throwing and breaking things, and fortunately my son's laptop was not in the backpack Todd threw.

But the line of unacceptable behavior he crossed years earlier was a more subtle line. You needn't call the police for that line violation because they don't care unless someone gets physically injured. 

I've been saying it for a long time: If my father had talked to me the way Todd talks to the children (primarily the younger three), I would have hated him and there is no way I would have a relationship with him now. Yet, my kids seem to bounce back. Outwardly, at least, kids appear to be amazingly resilient. The thing that frightens me is that this might be because for my kids, this is the norm. Walking on eggshells or dealing with the daddy tantrums is the daily way of life. I regret staying so long.

The word is getting out in our community that I left Todd. People are hearing bits and pieces about how I called the police, and how I'm not speaking with Todd, and how I'm not planning on going back until he is out of the house. I spoke to a friend who was actually visiting Todd as he was receiving text messages from his wife informing him about what was going on. He had an interesting perspective, because the Todd in front of his eyes was being charming and congenial, the perfect foil of the Todd he was glancing down at his phone and reading about.... 

He might have thought I was crazy because surely this man was not the one I spoke of... however, he had worked with Todd years earlier. WAY before Todd's accident. And he told me about how he had noticed Todd's anger issues then. He knew well the personality that conceals the anger in public and makes his family members look like fools if they speak up. He had been raised by that type of a man.

This friend went on to tell me how wonderful what I'm doing is. He said, "I wish my mother had done the same thing when my brother and I were your boys' ages." Instead, he had grown up in the shadow of (and often the victim of) rage. That meant so much to hear. Especially today when I felt ripped and torn down by another "well-intended" person who just didn't get it. 

I almost bought into this person's assertion that I was in the wrong for not having contacted Todd yet and telling him where his kids are--that without me laying down some stipulation, he doesn't know how to fix things. 

But then I remembered: I have a cell phone. And he knows what he did. If he doesn't think what he did (and what he said) warrants an apology, I have nothing to say to him. 

I have talked until I was blue in the face about our decades' old issues. I have written him detailed letters (letters that I run across on his dresser 20 years later and only the date indicates they are that old--I could have written them yesterday--not even the simplest of changes have been made.) I have poured my heart into a journal which he read without permission (full of honesty that if he cared could have provided a blueprint to reconciliation... but maybe he was just reading for ammunition... or for the sheer thrill of violating my privacy.)

He knows what to do. I only hope that I can maintain the fortitude to stand firm and not cower to those who expect me to jump through cookie-cutter hoops to fix this marriage as if the marriage is all that matters.

I'd love to go to bed now. To have my own bed. Someone please tell me that such rest will come. 

Content to Be Me

A few weeks ago, my "therapist" told me that when he looks at me, he sees someone who is celebrated, and yet is not comfortable in her own skin. He also said something about "a sexual revolution" being in order... but I'll not touch on that now... because morality aside, "a sexual revolution" would be dangerous for someone not comfortable in her own skin. A sexual relationship (or any relationship, for that matter) can only be good if it's individual partners are comfortable enough to trust.

So I've been thinking about what it takes to be comfortable--something I haven't been for some time--and it seems to me that a lot of well-intended advise actually can drive a person away from a place of honesty where he or she can become comfortable enough to trust. We're told to pretend. The whole idea of couples counseling seems to be much more focused on an image than it is on healthy individuals.  

I've been talking with Charlie. (I know some of you would say I shouldn't do that.) But, it's been good. And you know what? (Now this has nothing to do with sex, so don't get your panties in a bunch!) With Charlie, I am content to be me, and that's a nice way to be. This whole platonic friendship thing may be challenging, given our history and our memories... but having a friend with whom I can feel so comfortable in my being (not just my skin... I'm still not there with anyone, really... but in my being is even deeper) ...that's worth facing off the challenge, I think.

Dump and be Dumped: Beyond Humiliation

Those who have been following this blog from the beginning know about my friend Doug, and how a falling out with him in college pretty much devastated my self-worth, setting me up to be easy pickings for Todd.

A quick review: I loved Doug. My parents loved Doug. Everyone seemed to think we were dating, but we weren't. We were best friends and we did everything together. We wrote prolifically during the year we were apart at two different colleges, and I ultimately allowed him to talk me into transferring to his college three states away. Things were great at first, until Lisa, a girl in my department who had a lot of classes with me, set her eyes on Doug and decided getting to be friends with me would be the perfect way to get to Doug. 

A guy from Doug's department, Mike (or did I call him Matt? can't remember...) hung out with Lisa and Doug and I, and before long, everyone thought we were two couples double dating: Mike and Lisa; Doug and me... when, in fact, none of that was true, although Lisa was determined to date Doug. For whatever reason, I guess I stood in the way of her goal, and before long Mike and Lisa were going out of their way to get between Doug and me. I had to go. 

To this day, it is confusing to me what conspired to turn my friend against me, but one day, Doug and I were at the student union eating lunch together and he told me everything that was wrong with me -- in one sitting... ending with the bottom line: He didn't want to spend time with me any more.

I was heart-broken. And suddenly completely alone three states away from my family.

Fast forward through the subsequent reconciliation of my friendship with Doug... and years later via social media, a reconciliation-of-sorts with Mike and Lisa (who are now married to each other, with the picture-perfect family.) For the most part, I ignore them, but occasionally the two of them really get to me with their sappy, lovey-dovey posts on each other's walls that show up like an out of control fungus on my newsfeed. Sometimes I type "Gag me!" in the reply box under their dialog and take a screen shot of it (I know, I'm immature, but I never hit send!) 

Recently, Doug was "dumped" by a friend who seems to have been influenced by a new acquaintance to ditch all of his old friends. (Hmmm. Junior High revisited, or Karma?) Even if he did the same thing to me (except even worse, because it was a targeted "dump" rather than a mass "dump"), he is my friend; I do not wish him ill, so I tried to offer some helpful insight when he asked. But then he posed a question about it on his Wall (seriously, are we back in Junior High?!) ... and who should comment on it but Mike.

Doug posed the question:

"One of my best friends met someone who has had tremendous influence over him--to the point of making major life changes which includes dumping many long-term relationships. Thoughts?" 

to which Mike replied:  

"Doesn't sound rational to me."

Oh really?! I thought.

And then I did it: 

I wrote Mike a long message noting the surreal irony in his reply and telling him that it's not like I'm bitter or holding a grudge; it's just that I've been trying to understand what exactly conspired in that incredibly painful episode of my history... and I asked him once again what he meant by calling me "Hateful" and "Jezebel" and how exactly I hurt Doug (since he was the one who told me that, and Doug claims to have no idea what he was talking about.)

And I hit "send."

I don't regret it. So what if I look like a fool to some nobody from college? Go ahead, Mike... "unfriend" me. On the other hand, if he were to answer truthfully, I might finally understand that root to my relational dysfunction so I can break it off once and for all. I know, that's putting an awful lot of stock in one bit of information, but it is a pretty big bit. 

I know some of you readers who like to leave the past in the past are probably frustrated once again with my incessant meddling... Well, you know what?

I. don't. care.

I have played the game of holding it all inside and avoiding humiliation for far too long, and I am beyond being swayed by fear of humiliation. 

Recent months have brought about healing in several relationships that never would have happened if I had remained the fraidy cat I spent most of my life being. (Admittedly, in one situation, I opened up a can of worms that I probably should have left alone at least a little bit longer... REALLY crappy timing... but I have not shied away from that AlAnon "Step # Whatever" of making amends with as many people as possible, and for the most part it has been very rewarding.)


I remain optimistic that peace can be made where there once was misunderstanding. And I still think it's worth a little humiliation here and there to give it a try.