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. 

The World has Changed... and so have I

"People change, and forget to tell each other." 
                                                      - Lillian Hellman

Imagine what it would be like to sleep for a year. When you awoke, what differences would you find?

If you had a baby at the beginning of that year, chances are you might not even recognize the toddler who took her place. 

If you knew someone in the advanced stages of cancer, they might be gone by the time you awoke.

If you had a garden, it would likely be overgrown with weeds and many of the good plants dead.

The scenarios are endless. 

If you lived with someone who was stuck in a rut, however, you might be able to roll over and start up right where you left off without even noticing much of a difference.

What if it was just a few months that you slept? Even that long could make a huge difference depending on if those around you were growing, stagnant, or deteriorating.

What's with the what if's? 

Well, I guess it's time to fill in some of the blanks that I mentioned a couple of posts back. 

Something happened a few months ago. Todd was in a horrible accident. It might sound like a Lifetime movie of the week, but I'm not making this up.

The day before the accident, we had a terrible fight. I can't remember the details--just the emotional residue. Outwardly, it may not have been terrible in volume or anything like that, but inwardly it was crippling. More mind games. More blaming. 

Driving alone in my car, I looked at the guardrail as I crossed an expansive overpass. I allowed the car to drift a bit. 

Hopeless. Communication was hopeless. Todd has such a way of making me feel like I'm crazy--like I'm the cause of all our problems... All while he's verbally saying defeatist words as if he thinks I think HE is to blame. I know it sounds like a vicious cycle. I guess it is, but I sure haven't been able to figure out how to break it. I mean, I can temporarily stop it by being a doormat and serving as the buffer between him and the demands of reality, but that can only be sustained for so long before a person collapses in exhaustion. It's hard to explain, but I think I might be finally getting a grasp on how it works: 

I know there isn't always someone to blame for everything that is wrong in the world. Things happen. Life can be tough. Healthy couples can make it through stresses because they face them together. 

But when I would try to talk to Todd about a difficulty we were facing, he would get defensive. Any suggestion that would require him to compromise his comfort (even if it were a compromise for me, too) would be seen as an attack on him, or blaming him. So he'd lash out with pity-party rhetoric, saying, "Well, I guess I just can't do anything right!" or something like that. 

Since I was not on a blame-driven mission, that would throw me off guard. I would become frustrated with my own apparent inability to communicate, and I would start second guessing myself. 

"I just can't talk with you!" he would frequently add, walking away in a huff... OR, even worse, he would do this weird stare-down thing in which he would just glare at me like I was some sort of insane alien he didn't recognize or something like that. 

Sometimes I would respond, just as I was being treated (like an insane alien--breaking something, grabbing a bottle of booze and locking myself in the bathroom, once I even plunged a knife into my own arm trying to externalize the inner pain and "show" him what his words were doing to me--no need to send for the authorities... I realize that IS crazy, and I won't do it again. By the way, Todd never even checked to be sure I was okay after that. When you cry out for help, be sure to do it in the presence of someone who actually cares.)

Todd usually "won" the what is wrong with you?! stare-down, leaving me wondering that very thing: What was wrong with me? Maybe I really was insane. 

I would walk away (or run away) grappling with that oppressive question, and even though he would be the one voicing the words, "Well, I guess I just can't do anything right!" I would be the one left stewing, and he would go back to life in the status quo as if nothing had happened.

The mind gaming would leave me so confused, one fight would blur into another. With my stewing and trying to figure out what just happened, there would seldom be time between altercations to process the previous dispute, and so when Todd would ask me what was wrong, I really couldn't answer. It was no longer an issue, no longer an event... it was a mood, a suffocating mood... like a gas, choking me and incapacitating me.

So the day before Todd's accident, we clashed again... just before I had to take my son and drop him at a friend's house. I was scared driving my child, because I knew I was not in shape to drive...but still I needed to get out of the house--to get away from Todd. I poured every ounce of my will-power and concentration on driving safely, knowing that as soon as my son got out of the car it wouldn't matter any more. There would be nothing precious to Todd left in the car (other than the car itself, and that would be a small sacrifice to be rid of the thorn in his flesh once and for all).

I let the car drift. The sky reached up over the guardrail, inviting.

Our anniversary was drawing near. I think I mentioned that before. I dreaded the thought of the hypocrisy of it. I thought of the perfect anniversary gift: divorce papers--to free him from this alien woman who always made him feel like he couldn't do anything right. But then I realized that he would see that as just more blame from the bitch for his failure (which he would acknowledge in the moment and then go right back to putting himself and his comfort first in every decision). This would be a way to give him the freedom from my tyranny without the baggage. To be done with it once and for all.

Then I thought of my kids. Those kids who have kept me alive so many times. 

     If not for them, I would be dead by now.

          If not for them, I would have left him long ago and would be more alive...

Paradox upon paradox. What-if games are senseless.

I cried out... no, I screamed out: "I can't take this any longer, God! Am I really as crazy as he says?"

No.

I took control of the wheel and held tight with resolve to be sane.

"I can't live like this any more!" I cried. "This has GOT to change. I'm not like this with anyone else in my life. I know it's not just me." I replayed the evidence of mind-games to convince myself. "I don't know what to do. I may be crazy, but so is he! And he's driving me more and more crazy every day. God, do something. Do ANYTHING!"

I resolved to do my best to keep Todd from pulling me to his level. He might be selfish, but I wouldn't use that as an excuse to be likewise. 

As he sat and watched TV, I started working on cleaning up the family computer so I could install the upgrade he had ordered. I didn't know how to do it, but he said I was better at figuring things like that out. And he was tired of the computer crashing, so when the upgrade came in the mail, it was time. It couldn't wait another day. (That's probably what our earlier argument had been about. I "selfishly" had something else--work-related, if I recall correctly--that I really needed to get done, but he insisted that I drop everything.) Fine. I know my work as a writer is often little more than gambling, and there is no guarantee of a paycheck for what I had been working on... so, I put it off and did what he wanted for the time being... just to keep the peace. I needed some peace to process my thoughts about how to move forward with a divorce.

He went to bed, and I kept on working. The computer was a mess, and I wanted to be sure we didn't lose anything important in the upgrade.

I stayed up almost all night, grabbing an hour-long nap before I had to get up and take my daughter to class. I was so tired, I decided to do something I never do: to take a quick nap before picking her up an hour later. While I was sleeping, the call came. 

Groggy, it took a while to piece together the surreal information. It was the paramedics. They were calling from Todd's phone. He had been in a terrible accident, was unconscious and was being rushed to the nearest emergency room.

He was in a coma, but he pulled through. Recovery is gradual and we have no idea what it will look like in the long run. 

Todd may be greatly changed by the accident, but while he was sleeping, I changed, too. I can't go back. Won't go back. Todd is in no condition to be able to talk about our relationship yet, but his psychologist told me that if there is any silver lining to this whole situation it is this: Now is the perfect time for laying down new rules and boundaries. I believe that my "break" from Todd did help me start clearing my head and sorting things out. That change had already started before the accident, I just forgot to tell him (forget sounds cool, but actually I didn't know how to tell him.) I still don't know how I will tell him... but I know I will have to.

While Todd was sleeping, I didn't fall in love with Bill Pullman (although I will admit I think he is cute), but I did start respecting myself a little bit more.

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.

What do you want?

I found this in my drafts folder, unpublished. It's from over a month ago. A lot has changed... and a lot remains the same... and a lot revolves in cycles until, recognized, we are able to break free. I probably didn't post this because I was afraid the subject might stumble upon it. But now I think, "Big deal! Who cares? What is that to me? I have nothing to hide." Or maybe I didn't post it because I knew there was so much back story missing... missing pieces of happenings of late without which none of this will make any sense. Again. Big deal. This blog is mostly for me anyway. For my therapy. I want to remember what I was thinking on 5/9/12, even if it makes sense to nobody else. Perhaps later I'll be able to come back and fill in the blanks. So here it is, for what it's worth:


I commented on a question "my Therapist" posted online... and he replied with something I really didn't understand. I thought we might have a conversation, but then he disappeared on me... like so many others have. Yes, I am truly alone.

Earlier: For the first time in a while of trying hard to hold up and "be strong" as everyone says I must, I sobbed today. Deep, uncontrollable sobs. The type of sobs that reverberate the tumbling ill-fit armor of faux strength. It was freeing in a sense, but left me feeling raw and exposed. I wanted to be enveloped in arms of love, in a healing balm... not to be selfishly comforted, but rather to be truly one in mutual comfort.

Then I saw from his comment that "my Therapist" was sad, too. Sucker. Co-dependant. Why do I gravitate to weakness? Is it because I can't trust those who appear to be strong because I assume they are lying? Or is it because I believe only a weak person could love me? If they had their act together they wouldn't want me dragging them down? Or that they would judge me when I'm already judging myself more than enough, thank you?

I don't know. 

Anyway, he wrote back in cryptic verse. And then he was gone. Was his public airing of his depression just bait to get some sick co-dependent woman to pity him and do who knows what? Maybe he didn't want conversation at all, but rather something else.... and some attractive codependent took him up on it.

I am She

I'm still working on that novel. It's pretty stupid, but like I said before, since there are a lot of stupid people in the world I'm thinking there might be an audience.

Or maybe it's for a stupid audience of one: me.

It is quite a dose of therapy. As the autobiographical crap keeps slipping in there, I'm faced with the many ways in which my protagonist is like me. But she's separate enough for me to be a bit more analytical and honest about her than I might be about my self.

When I think she's boring, it's usually because she's not being very proactive. I need to fix that to make her more interesting and to make her more capable of fulfilling a healthy, satisfying character arc.

Fixing my protagonist can be a simple matter of de-wimpifying her dialogue and giving her a kick in the pants when it comes to confronting her antagonist. Shouldn't the same work in real life?

What can Bridget say to Todd that might improve their chances of making things better, more honest, healthier?

This novel may be just for me.

Drinking and Blogging

I'm going to be utterly profound... because I can. I was about to post some of the things I've been thinking on my public blog, but then I remembered some good advice the voices in my head gave me... not to drink and operate the internet. But you know me. I like to live on the wild side. But, I can be cautious, too. So I thought it better to log off my real facebook before saying anything that might prove to be too great of an embarrassment. So you get it all here...

And no emailing boys til I sober up either.

So, I'm listening to a recording of piano music played by the boy who replaced the Spawn of Satan in my young throbbing heart several decades ago.... and I truthfully heard voices. They weren't telling me to throw myself from a bridge or to commit any crime or anything like that. In fact, I couldn't tell what they were saying... just that they were human (or at least human-like voices) and they were emanating from the music itself. That was pretty cool. Not exactly profound, but cool, nonetheless. I'm not going to email Piano Boy, though...

...no matter how much I want to tell him that the sound of his fingertips massaging the keys of a piano cause me to hear the utterances of angels...

...no matter how much I want to thank him for rescuing me from that bridge (okay, I don't know what the keyboard angels were saying, just as I'm sure they weren't telling me to jump, and I did get the impression that they didn't want me to jump.)

I'm still working on that novel. I know it's totally stupid, but there are an awful lot of stupid people in the world these days, so I'm still hopeful that it will find a market.

Don't know what I'm drinking. Decided to just grab one bottle at a time without reading the labels. My eyesight is going downhill anyway, so I figured this would be a taste of things to come.

I'm not much of a drinker. A real light weight -- or as Todd used to say, "a cheap date." Cheap date... I should have seen all this coming. Not going to go there, though. When I started in, I thought this was going to be one of those morose depressing morose redundant depressing drunken episodes that make me feel like listening to Patsy Cline's "Crazy" and putting my hair in rollers and imagining myself dying in a plane crash... but this has actually been a happy time (mostly).

Shoot! I had something profound to say and I totally can't remember it now! Sorry to make you read this without any satisfying conclusion. If you're disappointed, please have a few drinks and then feel free to leave a drunken comment.

(sign above can be purchased here)

Arrghh! You're turning me into a pirate, Todd!

I'm tired of nagging. Twice a month, I have to nag if I want to avoid the insufficient funds charges on our household bank account. Twice a month, the big unavoidable automatic payments go through. And twice a month, we (often needlessly) pay these fees because Todd doesn't transfer money into the household account.

He has been working, so I don't think its a matter of not having the money (but then, I wouldn't know that for sure because his business account is as secret as the illuminati's iCalendar). He's just too darn busy to get around to transferring it to the family account so we (I) can have a little peace of mind (and use of that $34 a pop that's going down the drain every time he's too lazy to manage his money as a supposed business owner).

He's too busy. Poor boy. Putting in three to six hours on the job site (including commute time) and then having to watch football on TV when you get home can be so demanding!

In a couple of weeks the property tax bill is coming due. I have no idea how we're going to pay it. Last time I was able to pay it all by myself by sinking my entire writing advance check into it. But I still haven't finished the project that was an advance for, so I'm tapped out.

My gut has been all tied up in knots. I woke up this morning and I could hardly move -- the pain was so excruciating. I've cleaned up my diet to the point that it shines like the top of Mr. Clean's head, so I don't think it's being caused by food allergies or additives or preservatives... I think this time it's just good old stress.

He bought me some expensive probiotics to try to take care of my problems. I wonder if it ever crossed his mind that such things might not even be necessary if he would just take the time to transfer funds on time?

At least Todd is able to sleep at night and eat without fear of what convulsions that might send his digestive tract into!

Arrghh! That's about all I can say.