"Do or Suffer"

Just rambling... these thoughts are off the top of my head, and not some official treatise on the state of the union (be it union of Todd & Bridget, or of inner self and outer reality, or of team spirit and individuality, or...)

This is a new revelation to me—the fact that Todd’s demands are “do or suffer” (as opposed to "yes or no"--see comments on last blog post)—that’s not very nice of him, is it?

I’ve got to stop feeding the monster, even if it means suffering. So much of my mode of operation these days is the avoidance of undue inconvenience. Maybe what I need to be praying for is the strength to suffer.... How far will I have to go? If it comes down to having to leave and I can’t afford it, could I go to some sort of shelter?

I think I’d feel guilty doing that. There are women who are in physical danger—their very lives are at stake—those are the women those shelters are intended for aren’t they? Isn’t a woman who cries “emotional abuse” just being overly sensitive? Especially when there are so many hours in the day when her husband isn’t being abusive. (Just try pointing out the 23 hours a day when her husband isn't beating her to a woman who is physically battered for one hour a day...)

It ends up coming down to the altercations. I’m just so sick and tired of them! And each one is driving me further away from Todd emotionally, until I’ve gotten to the point where I’m so, so... bitter, I guess you could say... maybe more like numb—there’s no “team spirit,” that’s for sure... and I’m battling depression... depression that makes it hard for me to let myself care... and even if it starts with dealings with Todd, that carries over into areas beyond Todd.

I don’t think it’s at all chemical, because I really do seem to be okay with every other relationship in my life. If it’s situational depression, I’ve got to figure out how to change the situation before the depression gets any deeper, right?

I feel it creeping toward that level of self-destructiveness—that place where thoughts of hurting myself flash through my head in the midst of the arguments.... like a person with a really bad headache might be tempted to hit his head against a wall–one (self-inflicted and anticipated) pain distracts from another that feels out of one’s control—emotional pain can be so deep that pain in the physical realm would be a welcome distraction.

Busy & Tired

I've been alternating between too busy and too tired to fit this in. This blogging. This sorting out. This hoping for healing. It's been all about surviving; little room for thriving. So many trivial little things have been happening to tip the scales back and forth in the whether to keep trying or quit debate.

As of today, quit has sprinted out into the lead, but I'm too busy to do anything about it.

Todd just dumped a load of paperwork on me to "do now." He's had it for a week, but didn't tell me about it until the day it's due. I already had a full slate of things to do today, and when I didn't react with glee to his not-so-nicely worded "request," he launched into an argument about how what he was asking me to do was "easy" and he didn't understand why I have to turn everything into a fight. I'm too tired for these mind games. Maybe I really am the problem--overreacting and lacking in meekness and generosity. I know he believes his point of view is without flaw . . . so, I consider the fact that I am equally as stubborn as he.

After he finally let up (ie. left for "work"*), I was left shaken and confused. What happened? Why do these confrontations always leave me feeling so confused? Like sci-fi quality alternate realities are being constructed around me and I awake in the midst of a landscape that is totally unfamiliar . . . and Todd looks at me blankly as if nothing has changed. Is he deluded or schizophrenic or (?) himself, or is it a more sinister, intentional mind game he plays with me--trying to drive me crazy??? OR . . . maybe I actually am crazy--insane--mentally ill??? I don't know the answer, but I do know that it's hard to function in the simplest of tasks when you are questioning your own sanity.

One of my older daughters who was home during the argument came out from her room to comfort me. I apologized for the uproar. She said she understood. I said that Todd might be right--maybe the problem is all me. She then said, very precisely and deliberately: "Trust me. As an objective observer, I can tell you without a doubt, it's not you." I didn't want to get into it any more with her--to involve her in worries that shouldn't be hers to bear, so I welcomed the interruption of a phone call reminding me that it was time to rev up the mommy-taxi and go pick up the younger kids from their various activities. I wish I could accept her reassurance that I'm not insane, but I question whether the tie that binds mother and daughter is too strong for there to be true objectivity.

Work calls. The day is already more than half over, and I haven't started on my writing project yet . . . or hemming the dress my youngest daughter needs for a formal dance tomorrow . . . or numerous other bullet points on my never-ending "to do" list. BUT, Todd's paperwork is done. Now, all I have to do is try to pull myself together emotionally so I can really focus on my work. The producer on the project I'm doing just called and he needs a specific write-up delivered to him by tomorrow for a last minute meeting with some investors. Oh, and I'd better figure out what I'm making for dinner. My work day won't really get going until everyone else is fed and sound asleep.

*the mocking tone of voice indicated by "work" in quotation marks is because Todd says he only has about three hours of work today, and I know I have many more than that, but because I don't leave the house or punch a time clock, he seems to keep forgetting that I too have "work" to do -- I still owe work on a writing project for which I've already received an advance . . . and that's not to mention all the unpaid housework and hours of caring for and driving around his kids . . . .

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?