Stepping Outside of Myself

I found a new movie to love. A friend recommended that I watch The Prizewinner of Defiance, Ohio because elements of the storyline reminded her of Todd and me. 


It is a true story of a woman who chose not to allow her circumstances to rob her of happiness, and managed to raise ten children to healthy, well-adjusted adulthood (in spite of an alcoholic husband whose irresponsible behavior often sabotaged her greatest efforts). 


Julianne Moore's portrayal of Evelyn Ryan embodied what director Jane Anderson referred to as a certain "Midwestern Zen" -- that unshakable belief that good can come out of even the most tragic situations. 

Evelyn Ryan is my new hero. Not because of what she lived through or put up with, but rather because of how valiantly she fought to keep Kelly (her husband) from pulling her down to his level of negativity and hopelessness.

It was painful to watch the husband in the film destroy his own home when he was drunk, and it was even worse to see him pathetically attempting to make up for it with a cup of tea when he sobered up. No amount of tea could cover for the weight of the expectations Kelly Ryan heaped on his wife. He was heart-breakingly pathetic -- like a poster child for impotency.

The codependent in me felt badly for Todd as we watched the film, because I wondered if he would think I knew what it was about ahead of time and was playing the film merely as a way of pointing a finger at him. How could he possibly not see himself in the character of Kelly Ryan?

And yet Evelyn stayed. 'Til death finally parted them in their old age. 

Whether or not she did it because of her faith, "for the kids," or simply because that was what people did back then is beside the point. The way in which she stayed was definitely beneficial for the kids, and possibly even for Evelyn herself. Evelyn's life embodied the beauty of how forgiveness sets free the one who forgives. I still don't believe forgiveness means having to stay in an abusive situation, but because she was so strong and was able to be that joyful example, Evelyn made an indelible positive mark on the lives of her children . . . and although they were children of an alcoholic, they didn't end up needing years of therapy.

I love this exchange Evelyn has with her daughter, Tuff (who incidentally grows up to become the writer who wrote the memoir about her)

TUFF: Do you ever wish you’d never married Dad?
EVELYN: Gosh, Tuff.
TUFF: Do you?
EVELYN: No. I don’t have any regrets.
TUFF: Come on mom, you’ve been stuck in the house for 20 years cooking and cleaning and taking care of a bunch of crappy kids.
EVELYN: Don’t use that word -- Especially in regards to yourself.
TUFF: But you could be living in a city, writing for a newspaper, having an interesting life.
EVELYN: I do have an interesting life.
TUFF: Your life stinks. Gosh, Mom. Just look at today. You finally get a chance to go somewhere and the lousy car breaks down.
(Evelyn laughs)
TUFF: It’s not fair. If I were you, I’d be angry all the time.
EVELYN: Well, that wouldn’t do me any good now, would it?
TUFF: Gosh sakes, Mom. You’re only human.
EVELYN: Oh Sweetheart. Maybe I’m meant to make it to the [meeting]. Maybe I’m not. But right now I’m sitting in the shade having a conversation with my wonderfully feisty daughter....

"Well, that wouldn't do me any good now, would it?" Oh, that I could be more like Evelyn Ryan! 

Although I've managed to stay with Todd of a quarter of a century, I'm about as far as you can get from heroic... because I've allowed myself to sink down into the dark quagmire with him. I've allowed myself to entertain self-pity and anger . . . and what good has that done me or my children? I'm so far from having this figured out. Even without anger, there is a sort of inequality in the type of relationship Todd and I have that precludes intimacy. I can view him sympathetically, like Kelly in the movie, but that only leads to pitying him -- not trusting or desiring him.

The writer/director, Jane Anderson, made an interesting choice in how to present the Ryan family's story on screen. Studying the advertisements of the era, she found that they often utilized perky housewives stepping out of domestic scenes and talking directly to the camera. That Anderson chose to use this device as a way of narrating the Ryan family story is significant to me as more than just a creative way to tie the film to a very specific time in history. I think it also allows a visible picture of a psychological survival tactic Evelyn Ryan must have employed:

STEPPING OUTSIDE OF HERSELF.

Evelyn was not a Stepford Wife. She was not a suffering doormat for Kelly to walk all over. She maintained strength and dignity in the midst of what many would see as unbearable circumstances. She cried very little in the film (which by all accounts is very faithful to the memoir upon which it is based); however, frequently -- at those moments when most of us (or me at least) would be likely to cry or get mad -- we see Julianne Moore step outside of the scene and talk directly to the camera. I believe Evelyn was able to do the same in a sense . . . and that is probably why she was able to see the humor in situations that were also hurtful. She learned to focus on the positive and kick the rest to the curb.

Evelyn didn't merely survive, she taught her children how to thrive. What a wonderful legacy.

Can I be more like Evelyn Ryan?

I've been trying to step back and disconnect at those times when I feel like I'm going to burst. 

That helps. It's not something that becomes automatic, though. I think that even a strong woman like Evelyn has to step away and recharge.

She was real. She managed this beautiful balance that included being both positive and honest.




Lately I've been feeling a lot like Evelyn in this scene:

Maybe it's okay to withdraw at times like this. To sort things out without a lot of voices cluttering my head.

Here's my latest theory: Denying a dream doesn't make it go away; it only crams it down into some hidden space where it can easily turn into a nightmare. I think you need to allow yourself to grieve a little. A little. Then look for the joy. It's there. Somewhere. Maybe the vehicle you've been banking on won't get you there. Maybe it's time to get out and walk.

“Life is always going to hand you something miserable, but you don’t need to define yourself by either your failure or your pain or by whatever terrible thing someone has done to you.... No matter where you come from, what is done to you, you have the option to thrive." 

(Jane Anderson)

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.