"Guilt Baby"

Twice in the past couple weeks, I've been asked why I had so many kids if I was unhappy in my marriage.

Fair question.

Uncomfortable answer. Or perhaps I should make that plural. Answers. It wasn't always the same. The answers do point to more of my own embarrassing issues. Mainly self-sabotage.

I've been talking to Charlie lately. Had I admitted that yet? Anyway, the fact that I had a child after Charlie's was news to him. When he asked the question, it didn't take me long to realize I had done it out of guilt--as if giving Todd a chance to father a son would "fix" things. (Yes, I do realize that was a 50/50 crapshoot.) 

But then my oldest daughter asked the same thing. Surely having so many children is evidence that there once was love. Right? 

I found myself doing inventory. As I've said before, I married Todd to try to justify the physical relationship we were already having. The children were like a natural continuation of that.

A friend was recently going on and on about how "love is not a feeling--it's a commitment." He said it over and over as if it were a mantra. Perhaps he needs to convince himself of that because the wife he refuses to give up on is actually living with a different man.

"Love is a commitment," he kept saying. I nodded numbly, as if in agreement, but what I was really agreeing to was the fact that his statement was familiar. I've heard it so many times that it just sounds right.

Yes, I understand the fact that feelings fluctuate, and if you are relying only on feelings, any relationship is pretty much doomed to fade at some point or another.


But as the days since I heard Jeff repeating his "Love is a commitment" mantra have passed, I've been dissecting that sentiment, and I think it's overly simplistic. Oh really? The way some apply that premise is as if "Love is nothing more than a commitment." That's pretty close to the way I have lived for 25 years, and I can tell you, it is sad.

If that's all love is, then how is it different from joining the military, or picking fur off furniture if you have OCD and a long-haired cat? Hitler's followers were committed, but was there anything beautiful about their devotion?

Does the fact that I have remained more or less committed to self-sabotage, especially after breaking up with Charlie, mean that I love Todd? Few would think that for a minute, but they still can't deny the level of commitment that prompted me to add years on to what essentially already felt like a prison sentence by having another child. On some level, I wonder if I was afraid to leave and so I trapped myself.

When I see how cruel Todd can be to our youngest child (his child), I find myself wishing I had not been so committed. My "guilt baby" was born of commitment, and that is not the same thing as being born of love.

WOLF

Any Christian who deems him/herself qualified to offer marriage advice to others should read this book.

That's all I have to say. 

Outside of Time

Time holds me hostage 

for what price?

I'd pay, if I just knew.

No note requesting ransom sent,

My days are fading, only spent 

In the embrace of clock arms set 

To run indefinitely,

and never set me free.

How can they hold, yet

never touch?

I cry, but hear no sound.

Time's arms, like bars, my soul encase,

Future indefinite I face.

I long to rest in such a place

Where arms of flesh can hold,

See love that's true unfold.

Vows conspire with time 

to trap me

in airtight cask, I’m drained

‘til left a void, an empty shell,

surrender hope, abide in hell,

pretend that all is good and well

I truly am alone.

This world is not my home.

Outside of time lies

Hope and mercy.

He bids me wait and watch.

Guard my frail heart and body,

Though my flesh is heaving, sobbing,

And my weary head is dropping,

I’ll wait to see His face.

That’s where I’ll find my place.

Everybody's supposed to be strong...

I'm too tired. No need to babble about my thoughts. I'll grab someone else's.

Just watched the DVD commentary on the movie, Walk the Line. I was struck by the Thanksgiving scene at the lake house, just after Johnny confronts his father . . . Thirty years after the loss of his brother, the feelings are still as raw as if it just happened. He's tried to overcome, but still meets with disapproval. He's messed up, addicted to drugs. He's on the path to self-destruction. Thanksgiving dinner is ended abruptly by his altercation with his father. His guests can't leave quickly enough. Johnny makes a mad dash for his stuck-in-the-mud tractor and starts up the engine. This is not going to be good. Everyone knows it. June Carter is about to get in the truck with her parents and daughters, but her mom stops her.

Mother: "You should go down there to him... He's mixed up."

June: "I'm not going down there. If I go down there--"

Mother: "You already are down there."

June's parents camp out at the lake house, while Johnny goes through detox, fending off his drug dealing friends with their hunting rifles. In the DVD commentary, the writer/director said that he doesn't think June would have stuck with Johnny if it weren't for the support of her parents.

I hear people saying that in tough situations, you have to "find the support that you need." June didn't actively find that support, she didn't ask for it. God provided it in the form of an older retired couple who were not distracted by the demands of raising young children or supporting a family. They weren't tired, like their single-mom-and-twice-divorced daughter was. Being tired of trying myself, I found that beautiful.

I'm feeling the pressure to do something . . . to decide everything right now and jump through the hoops of official paperwork, OR to be Todd's mommy and walk him through recovery when I can't even seem to manage the much simpler task of getting the kids to do their homework . . . OR, of course, there is the other alternative of doing what I've been doing for the past quarter century: Numb myself and do what has to be done to survive. I mean, he doesn't beat me, so what's my problem?

Sacrifice

Last Friday, our cable TV was cut off. Payments had been set up automatically to our credit card, but in the wake of our financial crunch, I took that nice luxury off automatic payment.

It was Todd's idea.

Well, it wasn't his idea specifically to remove the television service. When I pointed it out to him that we are going at least five hundred dollars further in debt on that card every month (even when we don't use it for anything other than the automatic payments) and that the bill will exceed $10,000 by Christmas, he said that we'll have to stop the automatic payments. I know how late fees and reconnection fees rack up on utility bills that aren't paid on time, so I did leave a few of the "essential" utilities on auto-pay for now. Cable TV didn't seem essential. When the bill came in the mail, I placed it on the stack of unopened mail on Todd's desk, figuring it would be a nice experiment--I'd rather risk him missing the TV bill than the electricity.

So, time went by and the "red" notice came in the mail. I put that on Todd's desk, too.

On Friday the cable was finally cut off. He seemed to handle it okay. (ie. I wasn't there when he discovered it, and even though a bunch of the equipment sitting on top of the TV incidentally happened to "fall" right around that same time, nothing was broken.)

When we spoke later in the day and I explained that I just did what he told me to do, Todd said that I should have reminded him when the bill came because "it still needs to be paid." I told him I put it with his mail and also said that I wasn't going to pay it because I know we can't afford it. [I didn't even get into the fact that automatic payments have gone a long way to preserving our marriage thus far, because they've cut back on the number of times per month I have to nag him--I'm done with tolerating that sort of existence.]

A couple of the kids were in the room when this came up, and they quickly agreed that they didn't need TV--there are still a lot of shows that we can view online, and there are other things to do. Todd seemed okay with that. I was hopeful that he might actually be willing to make a few sacrifices himself to dig us out of this hole.

Friday went by without TV. Todd spent some time in his recliner reading a book . . . .

Then Saturday--Todd had a job, and he was gone most of the day. When we got home in the evening, we watched a movie on Netflix instant view. It was nice. With the steady stream of television in this house, it's hard to get him to commit to watching a movie with me--it's always:

"not yet...just a little more news, and a little of this home improvement show, and a little of this crazy white-trash criminal show, and a little of this expose on short-cuts in the construction of golf-clubs... and, naw, it's too late to start a movie now. I'm tired. We'll do it another time."

How nice. The benefits of going without cable TV were more than monetary. I could get used to this.

Sunday, I was out with my daughter most of the day, and when I got back in the evening, Todd and one of the boys were watching a movie. I thought nothing of it--It was probably Netflix instant view.

Then, this morning when I got up, Todd was once again planted in front of the television--this time it was obvious that he'd dropped the loot to reconnect the cable, and he had likely done it while I was gone yesterday. In his world of fantasy, that's not debt spending as long as he uses the debit card and not the credit card--even though the expenditure means we have less available to put toward paying off the credit card. [Perhaps he should have gone into politics.]

It's almost noon on a weekday (work day?) and he's still watching. I could give him the benefit of the doubt that he must be on an exterior job, and since it's sprinkling outside he "can't work"--however, with this being the nature of his line of work, it just seems that he could plan ahead a little for these rainy days and either use them to drum up future work or at least do a little of the long-neglected interior work around our house, rather than just sitting around enjoying a luxury that we can't afford--a luxury that is keeping us in debt.

Staying together for the expectations of others...

My oldest daughter just broke up with her serious boyfriend of four years. They've been talking marriage almost that long. She says they've been ignoring the signs for some time, and that they kept putting off breaking up partially because of "what everyone else expects" of them.

Interesting timing once again . . .

right after my realization today that a major problem with Todd & I back when the Charlie episode happened--back when we probably should have separated--was the fact that we were so entrenched in a world that didn't see us as individuals.

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.

What Have I Done to Help Him?

Here's something I've been chewing on...

New Life Live: May 27, 2011

Did this comment from the first caller come straight from my blog or what?

“I have no more emotional energy for him, and I just want to move on and be able to start taking some action for my life and for my kids.... I keep my emotional distance from him because there was a lot of belittling—a lot of devaluing—of what I was presenting to the table....”

The counselor's reply, also, seemed in step with some of the things that I've been grappling with.

“Sounds like to me... that you’ve really held onto some big resentments toward him... and he’s given you... fertilizer to grow the resentments... and then you combine this justifiable resentment... down inside you really feel you’re entitled to more than what he is bringing to this marriage. So, you’ve got this entitlement and this resentment causing you to have absolutely no interest in a life with this man....”

The question of "What have you done with respect to counseling . . . and assessment [for his depression]?" kind of ties in with the challenge one of the "anon" comments issued of speaking up so that Todd will have the opportunity to make right choices . . . but then also takes it to a level of not just calling things out and expecting him to deal with it, but also basically holding his hand and leading him to initiate his own recovery.

The counselor advises the caller to say this to her husband:

“We’ve been through a lot. We’re kind of stagnant and I’m getting pretty miserable. And I know that back there in the back when we got together there was a lot of love and emotion and affection for each other. I want to see if we can find that again. And here’s what I’d like you to do—I want you to go to [counseling] with me and that’s all that I’m going to ask you to do....” If he doesn’t go or won’t go... “If you’re not willing to do that—give me one weekend—I’m going to file for legal separation.”

The ". . . there was a lot of love and emotion and affection for each other . . ." part feels like a lie, but otherwise, this really fits. Maybe I'm "making a lot of excuses" for not doing what good advise has told me to do. I am tired. I don't have the emotional energy. I don't know that I really even want things to work out . . . but I know that both Todd and I need to get emotionally healthy if there is any chance of things working out. I'm content working on me now. Perhaps I need to find the boldness to at least say:

“If you want me... I need you to do the emotional growth that I have been doing. It’s a combination of emotional and spiritual growth, and I need to see a part of that...”

Since I don't have the energy, I'm just going to share a few more great quotes from this show:

“Whatever you do to get out of limbo, you’re going to have to do something pretty drastic and different in order to get out of this limboville.”

“Narcissists don’t get help unless their world is really rocked.”

This was great:

Kids learn a lot from a parent’s reaction to someone who is unkind... that means getting some support for yourself...

The Moon, the Crazy Moon

I felt that pain in my chest today. Not the kind associated with medical maladies, but rather that deep sobbing that may not even make a sound, but it feels like it's capable of turning you inside-out. Was it something Todd said? you may ask. No. Not at all. Todd has hurt me but he has never moved me to tears like this. This was the rare tug--the pull of true loss. I felt it at my sister's funeral, and I felt it when I was driving home after Charlie and I split up, while his child was still growing inside my womb.

What would bring about such internal contortion? Nothing Todd could say or do. I'm growing immune to his prodding. I think that comment he made a few weeks ago, "I didn't say 'we,'" in reference to moving back to the midwest, coupled with his accusation the following day that I had intentionally fainted at our wedding to get out of saying the vows combined to form the last straw. He can tick me off or annoy me... but really move me? Not so much.

What was it, then? I guess you could call it another silly self-therapy move. I wonder if I could get my own show on the DIY network.

I was reading excerpts from the book, Living with the Passive-Aggressive Man, and I started to feel really paranoid. I ran from room to room, closing the blinds on the windows and making sure the doors were locked, disassembled every smoke detector and heating vent to be sure there weren't any hidden cameras, dissected the phones in search of bugs, and peered into each closet (and the refrigerator) looking for spies. How could Scott Wetzler, Ph. D. know so much about what goes on in our house without the assistance of surveillance technology? What I read planted a tiny suspicion in my head... the thought that the problem between Todd and me is not completely about me being "crazy and impossible to talk to." Maybe I wasn't just imagining the mind game olympics that have been leaving me confused and feeling emotionally spent.

But then I went back to the log-eye thing.

Don't think of yourself more highly than you ought, I told myself. Todd's not the only one who has accused you of being an awful person, Bridget. Maybe it's true.

My mind went back more than a couple decades to that fateful, pivotal day when Doug told me everything that was wrong with me in one sitting. He didn't want to spend time with me anymore. It was over. Every time I walked by his best friend on campus, I'd hear him mutter the words, "hateful" or "Jezebel." Accusations like that don't just spring out of thin air, do they? Way back when this was happening, I confronted Doug's friend, asking him why he called me those things. All I was ever able to get out of him was that I had hurt Doug. When I tried to get him to tell me how, all he would say was, "at least you weren't married."

All of these years, that whole series of events has been confusing to me. I still don't know what happened. I still don't know what I did to hurt Doug. I've suspected that he liked me as more than a friend and he took my lack of response to his hints as a rejection, but I've never confirmed that. As those of you who have been following this blog know, Doug and I have been reconciled for quite a while. We're actually good friends now. But I still never figured out what went wrong way back then. He chalks it up to "we were young... naive... immature..." That's never really been enough clarity for me, but you can only dig so much when the others involved are pouring concrete and constructing buildings on the spot in question. I've let it go, wanting to know more every time one of my kids comes to me seeking advice on similar situations of the heart, but knowing that the only way to find out would be to come right out and ask him... which I still guess I fear might scare him away (I may also be a little afraid of what a blow it would be to my self esteem if I were to find out after all these years that he never did like me as anything more than just a friend, and that I was delusional to think that that was what had hurt him.)

Anyway, I finally did it yesterday. I finally broke down and told him that I really need to know what it was that I did, didn't do, said, or didn't say that caused him such great hurt that he didn't want to be around me anymore back then. What did I think knowing would accomplish after all these years? I may not have really known when I sent the message, but it couldn't be un-sent. As the day went by, I came to realize that it was, at least in part, self-sabotage--fishing for ammunition to use against myself. Perhaps he would raise accusations that would collude with what Todd says about me, confirming that I really am an awful person. You see, on the flip side of wondering how it was that I hurt Doug, part of me has always wondered IF I really hurt him... or if it was really just part of a game. He had spent time with me when he didn't have anyone else to spend time with, and then, when our mutual "friend" who was interested in dating him came into the picture, he tired of me, and the "you hurt me" story was just a convenient way to get rid of me. For all I know, that's just as likely to be true as the he had a crush on me delusion.

He did write back. And what he said didn't bring any more clarity.

"i appreciate the fact that you're trying to work through some really aweful pieces of our mutual past. however, i honestly can't remember any feelings about you that would have caused me to react to you in the way you described.

"here is my conclusion: like many people, i was a very confused and certainly a very insecure person. as we've discussed, i had my own issues with [our mutual friends]. i'm sure this included trying to impress them to the point of trying to make myself look like someone i wasn't--to the extent of acting out the immense insecurity that still haunts me to this day.

"knowing [the guy who called me "hateful"] as i did, he (like me) was often sarcastic and enjoyed the folly of mixed messages. i honestly cannot make any connection between you and the biblical jezebel in my wildest accounts and interpretation of what was going on back then. everything seemed to be about being funny, getting the laughs, and actually feeding each other in ways that were never conducive to real friendship or mutual understanding. the reality is, if we had the tools, we didn't apply them to all relationships to make them what they needed to be. rather, we did what we needed to do to make certain relationships work.

"if you were to see [those old mutual friends] right now, you wouldn't recognize them. they both have grown into truly godly, really terrific people, and the stuff we knew 26-plus years ago is no longer part of who they are. in fact, if we were to broach it, they, too, would likely be embarrassed and even repentent. i suspect that this would be the necessary connector for you: knowing that we all were young and immature, which doesn't necessarily cover over the multitude of sins, but helps to bring understanding for what we may continue to feel.

"here's a start. i'm happy to keep this going in processing through with you."

And I did reply to that message, but I'm not holding my breath in anticipation of anything that will bring any more clarity at all. It was while I was writing that reply that my chest did the contorting on me--while I was imagining all the horrible truths that could come out if I kept digging.

What will I do if he does at some point reveal to me that my suspicions of our friendship having always been a whole lot more lop-sided than I was willing to admit are true? I suspect it will be more of those deep chest contortions... hurting something awful... but it will be worth it to have the truth, right?

On another note, to celebrate my anniversary (a day late and alone) I watched a movie called Ira and Abby. It's a pretty cynical look at marriage, and therapy . . . How fitting!

Love this exchange:

Abby: Do you have a girlfriend?

Ira: No, I have a fear of perishables.

For some reason, as soon as it finished, I thought of the lines about marriage in Moonstruck:

Ma: Do you love him, Loretta?

Loretta: Ma, I love him awful.

Ma: Oh God, that's too bad.

It's kind of a relief that I don't love Todd awful. It's kind of a comfort to be numbed to that pain in the chest.

Transitions

I do feel for Maria as she goes through her "transition." I heard some radio commentators mocking her today for this video:

They were calling her whiny. True, it would probably be a whole lot easier going through a "transition," with a couple million dollars to navigate it, but I still think it's pretty low to laugh at another person's pain.

I did find it interesting that the same sort of extended family health and grief issues compelled Maria to put off leaving Arnold, even though she wanted to do it long ago. She definitely could have afforded good lawyers, but still she waited. As a mother myself, I'm sure the thought of pairing the loss of her children's grandparents with the split up of their parents' marriage seemed too great a stress to inflict on them. That was likely part of the consideration. She also probably didn't want to bring harm to her husband's political career (wait until he's back to being an entertainer--an actor splitting up seldom causes a lasting ripple of shock.)

So, after 25 years, she takes her time trying to figure out how to transition to a new life. She makes her own vulnerability visible to the general public, and a couple of radio jocks giggle about it and call her whiny. If she had come out more decisively, she would have been called a bitch. Whiny or bitchy . . . a gal really can't win. I guess you've really just got to be confident enough in your words and your actions to not care what other people say.

It's hard not to anticipate the attacks, though. I've seen couples split up and their mutual friends take sides and line up as if poised for battle, prolonging the pain of at least one of their "friends". I'm reminded of the brutality of a couple mutual "friends" of Doug and I (remember, "My Best 'Just Friend'"?) Those mutual friends quickly became Doug's friends and my ex-friends . . . because I was "bitchy." They may not have used that exact word, but I vividly remember Doug's friend Matt muttering "Hi Hateful" and "Jezebel" every time I walked by him on campus. I had no idea why he was saying anything like that to me when it was Doug who had broken my heart so badly I was walking about on the verge of crumbling to pieces. I'm not sure if Matt ever realized that his future wife, Lisa, had carefully engineered the whole break up because she wanted me out of the way so she could date Doug. Now Matt and Lisa are happily married to each other, and apparently oblivious to the destruction they brought about. One day, way back then, when I confronted Matt and asked why he called me Jezebel, he simply said, "Well, at least you weren't married." When I see Matt and Lisa fawning all over each other now, those words come back, echoing in my pain, and I just want to catapult back in time so that I can boldly answer, "Well, maybe we would have been if it weren't for you and Lisa!"

Transitions. In the words of Maria Shriver: "It's so stressful to not know what you're doing next . . ."

A Puzzle of Love

"We live in the Shadowlands. The sun is always shining somewhere else, around the bend in the road, over the brow of the hill..."

I’m looking at a table full of puzzle pieces. I know they will ultimately make a cohesive picture, but for now they are disjointed splashes of color and texture. “What is it?” you may ask, and I will not be able to answer. Here is a line where the sky meets the water. This may be the wispy residue of a fleeting cloud (or it could be the cotton peeled off the rim of the new vitamin bottle that accidentally drifted on to the blue floor tile.)

Progress. It may not be immediately obvious, but I have been grouping similar experiences, examples in literature, advise from friends, and so on into like color and texture, finding occasional notches that hold things together. The neat edge pieces are easier to line up, but they are in the minority of the massive collection of bits in search of meaning. This may take some time.

A friend’s advice that I quoted a while back included this statement:

“I predict he [Todd] will blame you with your own religion. I believe he will brow beat you with the Bible verses. You have to believe that they are lies and manipulations.”

Todd hasn’t done this, but I must admit I’ve been going through the wringer when it comes to examining how scripture applies to our situation. Brow beating is usually easiest when pieces of scripture are taken out of context and used to support preconceived notions. That’s what I would say I have to believe is not true. It’s like taking one little minute piece of a 1000+ piece puzzle and saying that what is seen in that piece is the entire picture. However, I do believe that the Bible (taken as a whole--the big picture) is reliable. It’s never let me down when I’ve given it a chance to sink down and illuminate the depths of my soul.

A few days ago I was declaring the battle hymn of the laundry room. The war was on, and the enemy was Todd. Then, in church today, the pastor continued our series on Ephesians, focusing on chapter 6, verses 10-17 .

He reminded us that when we have conflicts with our spouses, our spouses are not the enemy. The battle is against the one who doesn’t want to see God glorified in our lives, the one who is out seeking to destroy us. The battle is much deeper than the surface one that we see of “flesh and blood.” That’s why we see it over and over again: people divorce, people remarry, and people divorce again... because they never deal with the true enemy.

My beliefs may cause me to linger longer in an unpleasant situation--it’s called “longsuffering” (which some may see as a negative thing, but I truly believe is capable of building character and developing perspective... if one is willing to step out of numb resignation while in that place.)

Numb resignation could mean giving up on the battle too easily, but it could also mean accepting a status quo that even God doesn’t find acceptable. The only godly sort of longsuffering must be proactive.

A little comment on my Dirty Laundry blog set off an emotional response that is probably fairly typical of someone in a situation like mine. Anonymous said: “If nothing else you will not repeat the same mistakes next time around.” The words, “next time around,” jumped out at me and I immediately thought, What?!! Never again! I would never want to go through this again, so if I were to end up single again I would be more than content to live out the remainder of my life single, alone, but in peace. The crux of the issue is: I am so tired of walking on eggshells--of not feeling safe emotionally. I just want to feel safe for a change.

Then, after the admonition in today’s sermon to look at those we are in conflict with as fellowmen who are also under attack by external spiritual forces (as people in need of our prayer, not as enemies), I returned home and watched the movie Shadowlands with Todd.

In the movie, Jack (C.S. Lewis) starts out playing it safe. He responds to his perceived need for safety (and avoidance of pain) by denying himself the experience of deep true love. When he finally takes the risk of being hurt by loss and admits how he feels about Joy Gresham, he learns a lesson that books and lectures could never have taught him.

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket--safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from the perturbations of love is Hell." (C.S. Lewis, Four Loves)

I could let the hurt that I’ve gone through with Todd drive me into the hell of actually finding that “perfectly” safe place. I could let the situation rob me of the ability to love and be loved... The condition of my soul, however, is much more important than my external situation. I need to continue to “call out” those things that are not acceptable in our relationship. If Todd reacts in a way that I find threatening, rather that closing myself off as I have been doing, I need to find others who can support me in continuing to bare the truth and be vulnerable.

The picture is not complete. I do not know what it will ultimately look like. I will continue to dig in scripture and lean on Jesus to see me through this... not because I’ve been brow beaten or brainwashed to do so, but because the way I’ve seen the pieces of my life come together so far, they’ve always made more sense when they’ve been lined up with God’s word. His word, I’m finding, is overflowing with mercy... and so, I will trust that the suffering He asks me to endure will not last forever, and it will bring growth and joy in the long run... as long as I am honest and open to ways in which my preconceived religion doesn’t line up with it.

The verses on wives submitting and respecting their husbands from Ephesians 5 must not be taken out of the context of the chapter, the book, or the rest of scripture. While re-reading Ephesians 5, a through-line emerged that spoke freedom to me. Through my unhealthy relationship with Todd, I’ve felt so stifled when it comes to my life being a witness to the truth of the gospel. What am I to do if Todd continues to claim to be a believer and yet does not “walk in the way of love”? When he calls himself a Christian, and yet his life is marked by quite the opposite of thanksgiving?

Ephesians 5:6-7 says:

“Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of such things God’s wrath comes on those who are disobedient. Therefore do not be partners with them.”

Verses 8-11 tell us to “Live as children of light (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord. Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them.”

This is tricky terrain to navigate. I don’t want to ba a hypocrite, expecting perfection from Todd while excusing my own problems. Matthew 7:1-5 warns against that.

“Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.

“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”

As a “help meet”, however, I should not be enabling, ignoring, or justifying bad behavior... I’m not told to refrain from pointing out the speck in his eye; I’m just told to be sure that I’ve got things in the right order. Examine myself first. One of my biggest frustrations has come when I have attempted to speak the truth in love (not saying that I’m better than Todd, but rather communicating that I know he is capable of something greater), and he has lashed out in anger, refusing to consider that my words might be good counsel. How are we supposed to grow in grace together if there is no room for discussion? When I think of how often that has happened, it becomes more significant and interesting that the verse that immediately follows the log eye/speck eye passage is:

“Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to pigs. If you do, they may trample them under their feet, and then turn and tear you to pieces.”

Oh how often I’ve felt torn to pieces in this relationship.

Please examine me, Lord. Give me the discernment to know what to speak, when to speak, and when to turn away. Help me to find my safe place in You, so that whether I stay with Todd or leave, my heart will remain tender and capable of the love for which it was designed.

Full Metal Jacket in the Laundry

A few days ago, I said that laundry is an excellent opportunity to exercise the golden rule, but I've seen where that gets me... Today, I went out to check on some towels I'd left in the washer & dryer. When I'm doing clothes, I set the timer and don't leave anything sitting, but I figure when I'm doing towels--those are used by everyone in the house and so we should all be able to share the responsibility of washing and drying them. So, I went to bed with a load in the washer and a load in the dryer.

In the midst of our argument the other day, Todd "promised" (tone of voice dripping with resentment and venom) to bring laundry he takes out of the dryer in to the house, rather than leaving it on the freezer. He said it in such a way that made me say, "Don't bother if if it's SO hard--if you can't do it with a better attitude."

Well, when I opened the dryer to take out the towels today, I found a load of Todd's socks and underwear. Wow, I thought, he took care of all those towels... then I opened the washer and found the towels I had left in the washer--wet and stuffed back in the washer. He had carried the towels from the dryer in and piled them on a love seat in the family room (which I do appreciate), but instead of putting the next load in the dryer while his underwear was washing, I guess he just took it out and set it I don't know where while he did his laundry... then he returned it to the washer. (To me that seems like more work than just drying the towels, but I guess it did help him in keeping his promise to bring in what he takes out of the dryer.)

This got me thinking... maybe I have this golden rule thing all wrong... maybe I've been projecting the way *I* would like things done too much and not examining the way *he* likes things done enough. So, as hard as it was to do, when I took his socks and underwear out of the dryer, I left them on the freezer lid. I know I don't like it done that way, but apparently he does... so, in an effort to please my husband, I left his stuff on the freezer... and when I go out to get something for dinner from the freezer, I may not have time to assure that none of it falls behind the freezer, but I'll comfort my OCD tendencies with the assurance that "this is the way Todd would like it done."

The war is on, Todd!

I just finished watching FULL METAL JACKET (not exactly my kind of flick, but it was an "assignment" for a project I'm working on). Maybe I've been treating Todd like a girl too long... I need to recognize a sniper as a sniper.

. . . well SHOOT! (Not literally) Todd came home for lunch so he went to get something from the freezer before I had a chance to . . . and that means he brought in his underwear before I had a chance to be accidentally petty and vindictive.

Fight and Flight

The truth just burns to be told. It irritates and irritates, gasping toward the light of day.

I am literally physically sickened by the truths I can not tell (or will not tell--probably due to my codependency with someone I know cannot handle the truth).

We argued again this morning. I'm able to avoid it much of the time by just leaving him alone. But he had asked for my help. I offered it, but refusing to give it in a way that would feed the codependency, I offered it on my terms. That sent him through the roof.

You see, Todd has finally decided to follow through on his desire to write. He's still deluded enough to act like if you love an idea and write the script, it will get produced and you'll make money, and everything will be Easy Street from there on out, so he's writing during the times most people would either go to work or go looking for work (instead of doing it on the side like most aspiring writers do). I do respect the fact that he's actually sitting down to do the writing, instead of just talking about it. However, he is a beginner... and although he asks for help, he's very resistant to guidance.

Given our history of not working well together, as I watched him plug away on this script, my respect for his effort was tempered by my dread of the inevitable demand for help. It's hard enough to offer feedback to a person to whom you are not intimately related, but when you live with that person and that person approaches the people he asks for help as non-persons--like some technical gadget that should work and needs to be cursed at and bopped (I'm being metaphorical, here--no need to call the police) if it doesn't respond as you want it to (even though you've never even bothered to consult the manual... you get the point)...

So, I've already made it through the first draft of the script and offered a little feedback (being very careful to qualify the fact that this "just might not be my kind of story in the first place.") I also made it clear that format and proofreading for distracting spelling and punctuation errors would be a necessity before asking anyone else to read it. (The script was a mess in this sense.) He did a few revisions on it (content-wise only), and has been prodding me to read it again over the weekend. Mind you, I had things I had planned to do which really need to be done, but I sacrificed and took the many hours required to read the script and make notes of my response. It was still a mess--very hard for someone like me who struggles with A.D.D. (and possibly O.C.D.) to handle.

As I was fighting my way through a story that wasn't holding me, and a visual mess that was distracting me, he sat around watching sports on T.V. I tried to be gracious, but the fact that he once again had time for recreation, but couldn't put forth the effort to fix some of his sloppy errors before asking me for feedback really started to bug me. I prayed for a better attitude and labored my way through the script. Working late into the night, long after he had gone to bed, I finally finished and emailed him the attachment with my comments.

In the morning, he had checked his email before I got up, but he hadn't figured out how to open the attachment (and we've been through this before). So I once again walked him through how to open an attachment, and while we were at the computer, I thought I'd show him a few formatting tips (since I had included notes on that & realized that it might be hard for him to understand what I was talking about just from the notes.)

Big mistake!

This didn't fit his template for how and when he wanted what from me (me, the machine; me, the object; me, the one to be used for his own convenience). I knew that he would be asking me to help him format this later, and that if he just understood a few simple operations he wouldn't continue to make such a colossal time-consuming mess. The problem was, in his mind fixing the mess later on would be no problem--like always, he would just dump it on me, go watch his game, and when the game was over the script would magically be beautiful. (I've come to realize that was how he was raised. His mom created this monster. I guess it's hard for a person to learn to endure the strain and toil of working toward a goal when he has people in his life willing to just do it for him.)

I refused to be the complete push-over, and his inability to put me on auto-pilot to do his work for him sent him into an angry place. By the time I left the room, I was trembling all over and sick to my stomach. He, on the other hand, was tapping on the bathroom door within a few minutes, as if no altercation had even occurred, saying he had read some of my notes and was ready to bat around story ideas--as if we were collaborating on this story I don't even like. I was still shaking, and trying to get ready for church, even though I now wouldn't have time for breakfast. (That didn't seem to bother him).

I guess he can't see any irony in the fact that in the past, even when I've been working on strict deadlines, he has put me off and put me off when I've simply asked him to read a page or two (already polished and proof-read for spelling, grammar, punctuation & format, mind you.) It's like this huge disconnect. He can't see how he uses others, and then ignores them when they aren't of use to him. (By the way, his script is 100 pages)

I hope this script does work out for him, but I also fear what it might do to us. Perhaps this will be the thing that will end up squeezing the truth out of me--whether he can handle it or not. That may be painful, but I really should welcome it nonetheless. I do long to be in that place where the truth is out and I no longer feel the need to tip-toe on eggshells.

A friend told me she kind of felt like I was using Todd, staying with him until the kids are grown, while in a sense working toward an escape plan if things don't work out. I've not given up on the relationship, however. I'm just not deluded by unfounded hope.

Todd's lack of ambition--or at least carrying through on his ambition--has been a major turn-off to me. Now he's at least making some effort (even if it is a bit misguided--and I can't hold that against him, as I have made more than my share of misguided mistakes). As I see it, the self-empowerment moves I am making are not an escape plan as much as they are a grow-up plan--a plan that both Todd and I need.

If he will come along with me, we might survive, but if he insists on remaining the child and forcing me to parent him, then the empty nest just might trigger me to fly away. I'm not denying that. I don't want Todd to stay nest-bound forever, but if he chooses to do so, I will NOT be the enabler. It's for his own good, too. Right now, he lives in shackles. How he can even breathe is beyond me. The truth will set you free.