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.    

This Social Network

This is the point in the script where things start connecting--perhaps faster than our protagonist can handle. I received a message from someone from my past on a social network today. She had to have done some sleuthing to find me because I'm only listed on that network by my maiden name, and I'm pretty sure she never knew my maiden name. My initial reaction was "I hate the internet." I've got my privacy settings pretty high, yet not so high that those who truly know me can't find me. It's an interesting balance to strike--especially if you have chapters of your past that you'd rather forget.

For those who have read the Charlie chapter of the story of Bridget, you know that there were others privy to our marital woes (or at least to my sinful reaction to the marital woes). You may even remember the pastor whose counsel almost gave me the courage to give in to suicidal impulses... and to be fair I must admit that he also offered me the sage advice that a separation in order for us to work on our individual problems might be beneficial. (In retrospect, I know that would have been preferable to the way we just ran away, and ultimately clung to our old codependent habits.)

Running away is how we handled the situation back then. Our lives were tangled up with complications--work and home and friends and church overlapped* way too much for us to find any place where we could feel safe enough to deal with our problems. Our counselor even advised us to leave, citing that we needed to have a place of our own where we could retreat from work and focus on our relationship. Her advise led to us renting a house for the first time in years--a place that would not be invaded by the demands of employers we were in debt to for the roof over our heads--and leaving a church that had been a source of demands and judgement in disproportionate balance to support. If we had stayed (or if one of us had stayed) separation would have been the only way to survive. [*The overlap served as a sort of a cancellation of each of us as individual entities--the majority of the people in our lives saw us as a single unit . . . and thus, when they were disappointed by Todd, they would express disappointment in me.]

Looking back, I realize that the biggest reason I couldn't handle staying there was because I would need to really stand up for myself and push away from enabling Todd in order to not go crazy. Todd pulled me into his world of delusion more than I ever realized. He reacted to criticism of our employers by demonizing them, and because people are imperfect, I was able to see the flaws in those he was demonizing and it magnified my distrust of them. The church did contribute to the gluing us together with "till death do us part" expectations--approaching me as if Todd and I really were one, even when I had little to no sway over his irresponsible behavior... they should have held him more directly accountable and not always put me in the middle. But I also should have stood up for myself. Todd and I were bound more tightly in our disfunction than I realized. If they had truly worked with us as individuals, things might have worked, but we seemed to be so inextricably "one" in their eyes that there was no other way. So, we left. We didn't move too far--only about 15 miles--but in a metropolitan area, it was enough distance to pretty much avoid seeing all the people from our old life.

I have a phobia of that little suburb 15 miles from my doorstep. There are times that I have to go there, and my hair practically stands on end if I get too close to the place we lived. One time Todd was driving, and he jokingly started to swerve the car as if he was going to pull in the driveway to the old church. My heart nearly stopped and I had nightmares for weeks after that. There were some pretty awful things that went on in that place, and I frequently deal with the fact that I haven't been "reconciled" with those "brothers and sisters" in the Lord by putting them in a different category from the "real" church: It was a cult--a bunch of self-righteous fringe lunatics--looneys who are not to be trusted.

Then, in the midst of my safe oasis of friends on my social network, a message shows up from that pastor's wife. She's hoping that Todd and I will be able to attend the church's anniversary celebration coming up soon. She says that she and her husband think of us often and pray that all is well. My defenses instantly erect about me. Distrust. Sure you wish us well. Sure you want us back there for the anniversary... an anniversary... what a convenient excuse to snoop around in our business for your own amusement. I look at her profile and see pictures from the cruises she's gone on with her husband. Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous Clergy. They were happy to move into a wealthy area to minister, because the lifestyle fit them so well. It was incidental that they had to live that way to minister to the natives. Suffering for the Lord. Ha! Past hurt excavates the ugly depths of my soul. Envy. Judgment. Demonization. Then I realize something that had evaded me until now. These attitudes toward this couple... are they really my own? Are they perhaps more Todd's narcissistic reaction to people who refused to accept his delusions as true? God! How much of his crap have I incorporated in the way I deal with others over the years?

I'm going to have to pray about this message sitting like a weight in my inbox. Initially, I thought I'd ignore it. Why would I want to open up that can of worms? But even in the amount of time it has taken to write this message, I've begun to wonder if the timing of this might be more than coincidence. Could this perhaps be providential? a gift? a catalyst for my grow-up plan--my attempt to uncover any delusion that is crippling me? An answer to the prayer I've been praying from the Psalms 119:29?

Remove from me the way of lying,
And grant me Your law graciously.

The only reason to answer and reconnect with this couple I've avoided for so many years would be if it could promote honesty and healing. I really don't need any more nice role-playing in my life.

Thievin' Joy Thieves

I choose joy.

Today.

I choose joy today.

Tomorrow,

I will choose again.

Joy.

Thieves will come.

Thievin' joy thieves.

What shall I do with a joy thief?

That is my choice.

Will I set him a seat at the table?

Will I give the thief a key?

Will I open the door and ask him in?

It's really up to me.

(I rhymed--cute, huh?

...that's what joy can do ;)

I chose poorly long ago.

Yesterday.

and other yesterdays.

Yesterday is not today.

Today is the day of joy.

I will fling open the shutters

and let in the breeze,

but I will not open my door

to the thief of my joy.