I'll Send Todd Half the Bill...

The jacuzzi felt great tonight. I hated using the credit card, but I guess it's pretty good to have made it almost a month away from home before resorting to using the plastic. 

As Todd would say, "It's too hard asking people to stay with them." After a month, I finally decided to give myself a break from doing something night after night that Todd can't even begin to do. I did call one person who had earlier said we could stay with her... but she had other company, and besides that... she's re-thought her position and is now convinced that I'm doing the wrong thing. Oh well... there will be those who will not understand. It is not my job to make them understand. 

When I got back to the room from the jacuzzi and took my wet swimsuit off, I decided to wait until my daughter calls and says she's here to get dressed. What a way to celebrate not having to make anyone understand! 

Have to go, now... I'm going to enjoy every dollar's worth of this solitude, not being in someone else's house. The cool thing is... when I'm forced to file the divorce papers, Todd will have to pay for half of this hotel bill. 

This is where I will wake up for my four week "weekiversary" of leaving Todd. In the morning, the day will be new. I will be new. 

I Need Input... PLEASE

Should I, or should I not "threaten" legal action before taking legal action?

I'm planning on filing a restraining/kick-out order if Todd doesn't get his butt in gear and find a place to so his kids can return to their home... 

• Should I be specific in advance? 
• Should I let him know that if it's "too hard"for him to live somewhere else so the kids can be in the house, his inaction will actually force me to file for divorce sooner rather than later? 
• Or is it better not to alert him to the action I plan on taking and give him the chance to be premeditatively nasty?

All you silent lurkers, please speak up this time. And give me the "why" behind your answer. There is wisdom to be gleaned from a multitude of counselors. 

Time for Bed

I slept on a hide-a-bed last night. Tonight I will sleep in the twin bed of a teenager who's giving up her room for me. Tomorrow, I'm not sure where I'll sleep. Don't want to overstay my welcome anywhere. My boys are sleeping on the hide-a-bed tonight, and my youngest daughter will be on air mattress on the floor in the room with me. 

Todd is sleeping in a comfortable king-sized bed back at the house... HIS house. Last time I slept in that bed was a few months ago when he was in the hospital.

This is my "blah, I'm exhausted" way of telling you that I left Todd. Surprise! Wait, I don't have the energy for an exclamation mark. Don't need one anyway, because to those who know what's been going on, it's no surprise. Or is it? Maybe you thought I'd never do it.

I know a lot of women who have left for a night, maybe two... and ended up right back where they were before they went through the inconvenience of displacing themselves. I'm determined not to be one of them. So I must stand firm. 

Todd crossed an unacceptable line in the eyes of many in society. He crossed a line I never should have accepted years before that. In the midst of an angry tirade, he grabbed our youngest daughter's wrists in a manner that hurt and frightened her. He had already frightened our youngest son when he was throwing and breaking things, and fortunately my son's laptop was not in the backpack Todd threw.

But the line of unacceptable behavior he crossed years earlier was a more subtle line. You needn't call the police for that line violation because they don't care unless someone gets physically injured. 

I've been saying it for a long time: If my father had talked to me the way Todd talks to the children (primarily the younger three), I would have hated him and there is no way I would have a relationship with him now. Yet, my kids seem to bounce back. Outwardly, at least, kids appear to be amazingly resilient. The thing that frightens me is that this might be because for my kids, this is the norm. Walking on eggshells or dealing with the daddy tantrums is the daily way of life. I regret staying so long.

The word is getting out in our community that I left Todd. People are hearing bits and pieces about how I called the police, and how I'm not speaking with Todd, and how I'm not planning on going back until he is out of the house. I spoke to a friend who was actually visiting Todd as he was receiving text messages from his wife informing him about what was going on. He had an interesting perspective, because the Todd in front of his eyes was being charming and congenial, the perfect foil of the Todd he was glancing down at his phone and reading about.... 

He might have thought I was crazy because surely this man was not the one I spoke of... however, he had worked with Todd years earlier. WAY before Todd's accident. And he told me about how he had noticed Todd's anger issues then. He knew well the personality that conceals the anger in public and makes his family members look like fools if they speak up. He had been raised by that type of a man.

This friend went on to tell me how wonderful what I'm doing is. He said, "I wish my mother had done the same thing when my brother and I were your boys' ages." Instead, he had grown up in the shadow of (and often the victim of) rage. That meant so much to hear. Especially today when I felt ripped and torn down by another "well-intended" person who just didn't get it. 

I almost bought into this person's assertion that I was in the wrong for not having contacted Todd yet and telling him where his kids are--that without me laying down some stipulation, he doesn't know how to fix things. 

But then I remembered: I have a cell phone. And he knows what he did. If he doesn't think what he did (and what he said) warrants an apology, I have nothing to say to him. 

I have talked until I was blue in the face about our decades' old issues. I have written him detailed letters (letters that I run across on his dresser 20 years later and only the date indicates they are that old--I could have written them yesterday--not even the simplest of changes have been made.) I have poured my heart into a journal which he read without permission (full of honesty that if he cared could have provided a blueprint to reconciliation... but maybe he was just reading for ammunition... or for the sheer thrill of violating my privacy.)

He knows what to do. I only hope that I can maintain the fortitude to stand firm and not cower to those who expect me to jump through cookie-cutter hoops to fix this marriage as if the marriage is all that matters.

I'd love to go to bed now. To have my own bed. Someone please tell me that such rest will come. 

Why the Weekend?

I'm so restless. It's a weekend and all of the kids are either off at their jobs or other activities and I am home alone with Todd. I must learn to be patient. I know this will take time to figure out and work out, but I want to make the calls that will move the wheels right now. The counseling center and legal advise clinic will have to wait. My stomach is growling, but I don't even want to take the time to eat, because I'm trying to digest all the information I can find online about the divorce process. 

Oh, how I wish there were an "Easy Button" I could just push and all the junk would be taken care of. 

In searching for this image, I found 40x40 blog (click image for link). Appropriate, I think...  not just for the emphasis on mental health and choosing a better life, but also because I know I need to get off my butt and exercise again!

But it's a process--like so much of life--and I have to trust that going through the process can make me stronger (if I make the decision and do the work to get there.)

Part of me just wants to give in to the weakness... to wait to be rescued. Not gonna happen. Curse those darn fairytales that pollute little girls' minds! Battling off the hidden residue of such early indoctrination is an on-going process. There's that word again: PROCESS.

Where does the weekend fit into that process? Hmm. Think I'll start with a walk. I have to go to the bank anyway, and should be able to leave Todd alone long enough to do that. But then I worry, because I've not yet officially been released from that 24/7 supervision decree. That was just a starting point, I think, but it's hard to determine by myself when it's okay to wean away from the constant babysitting (especially when I know how quickly his moods can shift.) 

Oh, well. Like I said, I'm detaching myself from stuff. If he decides to burn the house down while I'm out walking for a few minutes, then I guess that's just less stuff to fight over. 

I'm going to do it.

One step at a time.

Something's About to Hit the Fan

I've heard and read about the proper protocol when it comes to informing family members of a decision to divorce. The spouse should know before the kids. It makes perfect sense. 

Then yesterday happened.

Todd is home all the time now. We used to get a breather from his moods, but ever since he came home from the hospital following his accident, he is home. all. the. time.

It was one of those moods you could slice with a knife yesterday. The kids hadn't been keeping up with the cleaning like they should, and Todd had had enough. He started on one of his clean-like-a-madman and make-as-much-noise-as-you-possibly-can-so-no-one-misses-out-on-the-fact-that-you're-doing-something-you-shouldn't-have-to-do rampages. 

My son came in and politely and calmly asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?" 

"No. It's too late!" Todd bellowed, continuing to flail about with a broom, crashing it into the walls carelessly as he swept, and scaring the gentle boy out of the room.

Then, instead of just sweeping under my great-grandparents' antique settee like we always do, he hurled the fragile piece of family history away from the wall, causing it's rickety old wheels to squeak, creak, and groan as they slid without spinning.

I've been disconnecting myself from things for some time now. Even more so since Todd came home with his mood swings magnified, and the glass stove was mysteriously cracked from corner to corner (just about the same time I heard him crashing around pots and pans in the kitchen.) I can't care about things and keep my sanity with a near-sighted bull raging about in the china.

My daughter was home, however. And she cared. "That is not acceptable," she said calmly, but emphatically. He didn't listen, so she repeated it. He played ignorant, like he didn't know what she could possibly be talking about. She explained about how that particular piece of furniture had endured many generations, and it had done so by NOT being treating like that.

He muttered something like, "Well, what am I supposed to do?" 

I ignored the biting sarcasm of his tone of voice, and suggested that he might have accepted his son's offer to help... then he wouldn't have to be doing this.

"Oh, is that so?" He flung the words at me like manure being flung onto a pile of more of the same.

"Yes," I replied, "it is so. If you had allowed him to help you'd have half the work and you'd be building positive memories instead of the sort you're building now."

"Well, it's too late," he muttered.

"It's not too late if you're still cleaning." I should have known better than to challenge his thinking in any way.

And so began yet another one of our typical altercations. I resolved myself to not let him get to me, but that resolve waivered. 

He mocked me with his tone of bitter sarcasm for being bothered by his tone of sarcasm, as if he were some sort of a misunderstood saint. "Well, I guess I can't do anything right," he retorted.

Oh boy. I know what those words mean. They indicate the fact that we are speaking from two entirely different realities. No need to continue: Your words will only be twisted.

I retreated to the other room, to find my daughter sitting there. She had heard the whole thing. "It's okay, Mom," she said.

But I could feel the tightening in my chest. I could feel my health being depleted. I knew it wasn't okay. "I can't take this anymore," I let the words escape.

"I know," she replied.

"I know I shouldn't say this to you... not to you first, that is... not before I say it to him," the words just poured out... but I didn't have to say any more.

"I know, Mom," she said. "You don't think I know? You don't think we all know? It's obvious to everyone." And she went on to bring it up. The words I couldn't quite say, she extracted and gave voice to...

SEPARATION

. . . and she wasn't devastated.

. . . and when I said it could be the best thing for everyone -- even Daddy, SHE AGREED. 

So, I admitted that I had been rehearsing the words to say to her daddy, just the night before -- the words to tell him it was over, but that he would be okay.

"Your brothers each went though divorces, and they were okay," I had said as I drove alone in my car the previous night. "Your mother, too. And life went on..."

My daughter and I sat there conversing in hushed tones as the storm continued to rage in the very next room. 

I had let the cat out of the bag. 

She understood. 

Just like a good friend had nearly predicted when he said, "You've got to have a little faith that your friends and family will understand."

It feels like the wheels have been set in motion.

That's a scary feeling. But it feels good, too. 

I can't stop the momentum. That would be heartless. It would be slipping back into apathy, which is the opposite of love. 

The most loving thing I can do for myself, for my children, and for Todd, is to stop standing idly by and enabling him to be whatever sort of jackass he feels like being without any consequences. 

I'm prepared for him to argue. I'm prepared for him to make promises to change. I'm prepared for him to play the persecuted victim. 

And I'm also prepared to answer:

"It's too late."

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.

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...

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 . . ."

Is Honesty the Best Policy? Even on a Holiday?

Our anniversary is coming up next week. I've been dreading it. Dishonesty is suffocating, but honesty is difficult to phrase in a way that won't be interpreted as unloving. While dishonesty might appease Todd's fantasy that everything is "okay" for the time being, it will not hold us forever.

How often--when Todd has erupted at the inconvenience of having dependents--has it crossed my mind that the very best anniversary gift I could give him would be a divorce? Then he might at last have a chance to see if he would be satisfied by the type of happiness he seems to think he deserves (all the stuff he wants, when he wants it, without anybody else in the way . . . blocking the screen, or using the last of the milk on their cereal when he needs it for his coffee, or asking him to remember to deposit some of his pay in the household account before the automatic payments cause overdraft charges again . . . )

He blew up on Mother's Day. The kids had done a pretty good job cleaning up the kitchen, but then we had pancakes and Todd decided it was time to get the youngest (we'll call him Matt) to load the dishwasher. I guess Matt didn't hop to it quickly enough, or he asked if he could finish what he was doing first... something didn't fit Todd's template and he started yelling until our son was crying. Then he yelled at him for crying. The altercation broadcast across the entire house. Happy Mother's Day.

"Why are you crying now?" Todd drilled.

"I don't know," Matt answered, sobbing. Matt has a bit of a speech impediment, and as is common, he becomes more difficult to understand when he is emotionally upset. I could understand him fine from the other room, but Todd gets impatient and doesn't really listen to others if the answer isn't what he wants to hear.

"What?" Todd blared.

"I don't know," Matt answered.

Todd mimicked the speech impediment, making our son cry even more.

"I don't know why I cry," Matt answered, getting even worse. "I try not to, but I can't help it."

Matthew was obviously embarrassed by the fact that he couldn't control his crying. I know that feeling. I've been there.

Todd started slamming the dishes around, putting them in the dishwasher himself, and when Matt tried to help, Todd told him to go away. This prompted Matt to cry even more. He has a tender heart, and is my most cheerful helper of all the kids. He wanted to help and now he was not only being mocked, he was also being denied the opportunity to do the right thing. Todd wanted to be sure that he felt badly about himself.

Matt ran out of the kitchen crying so hard he was shaking. I took him in my arms, calmed him and thanked him for being willing to help. I told him not to be ashamed and to walk back in the kitchen and calmly tell his daddy he was sorry for not helping when he was asked, let him know that he was ready to do the dishes and that Mommy wanted him to have a second chance. I thought, if a child came to me and sincerely said that, I would give him another chance, and surely Todd would see treating his son decently as a sort of Mother's Day gift.

Matt put on his brave face and tried, but Todd just yelled at him to go away, saying it was too late. When Matt ran to his room, I marched into the kitchen, determined to call out this ridiculous emotional abuse.

"It's Mother's Day, and I want Matt to have another chance to do the dishes," I said forcefully.

"No. I know what I'm doing," Todd answered. I could tell that he was holding back from fighting with me, I suppose because of the day it was. (Could you say that holidays promote evil because forced goodwill is dishonesty? Maybe that's why I've come to dislike holidays--all holidays--more and more with each passing year.)

"What? Are you trying to make him hate you?" I asked.

He laughed it off, like I was stupid and he was some sort of expert in child rearing, his plan incapable of failing. I tried to reason with him, but he was cocky about it and refused to listen.

Was I so wrong to want peace in the house and an opportunity for my son to learn about mercy? Especially on Mother's Day--the day that was supposed to be for me? (I guess that would have been asking for a show, a lie . . . the very thing that I'm most dreading as our anniversary approaches.)

As that day draws near, I've been asking myself: Is honesty the best policy? I know that enabling bad behavior is not good for any of us, but are there days that we should refrain from calling out the things that are not acceptable? Are there special days and seasons when we should just hold our tongues and put up with the &#@%?

I was talking with a colleague the other day, and finally broke down and told her what was going on with Todd. She was a good listener, but she kept trying to connect Todd's behavior to the fact that he is grieving the loss of his mother. I don't doubt that the grief could exasperate the emotions that already are out of his control so much of the time, but the truth is, I really haven't seen any discernible difference in Todd's behavior since his mother passed away last fall. He's the same old @$$#*?% he was before. This colleague said you have to give a person a full year to "get back to normal" after a loss like that.

"Get back to normal?" I thought. Why would I want him to get back to his normal?

This is his normal. He hasn't changed. I'm the one who has changed; I've just finally gotten to the point that I can't take business as usual any more.

There are truths that need to be spoken, expectations and boundaries that need to be declared out loud . . . before they are allowed to simmer to the boiling point and explode. But things keep coming up--getting in the way of honesty: holidays, illness and death, the demands of work . . . It seems that there is always a reason to put off speaking the hard truth . . . but lying is not loving.

Oh, what a paradox: Could saying "I don't love you" possibly be the most loving thing a person could do? Or is it better to get a sappy generic card with sentiment you don't believe, go out for a dinner you can't afford, fake enjoyment of company you can barely tolerate, and smile a plastic smile to cover up the pain just because it's another one of those holidays . . . another one of those evil holidays?

I've tried to think of a kind, gentle way to say what is on my heart, but everything comes off as sounding potentially bitchy. After all, that's what a woman who is disagreeable is--a bitch, right? A man I'm working on a project with said something about his ex-wife the other day and the word just rolled of his tongue: "She's still a bitch," he said. I haven't known him long, and I've never met his wife, but this man is gruff and domineering and I couldn't help but wonder what he meant by "bitch" -- Perhaps, I thought, he meant that she was just like him, but female. It's still kind of that way in much of our society. We make excuses for him: "He's strong-willed," "more of a leader than a follower," etc. Guys laugh it up. "That's just the way he is. It's funny!" But an assertive woman? Get ready for the personal attack and the label.

What label would you give me if I gave my husband an anniversary card that said something like this:

"I'm tired of trying in vain. I'm tired of being met with mockery or derision every time I try to bare my soul. I'm through. It's our anniversary, but as far as I'm concerned we're not even married any more. We haven't been for some time. We both know that God instituted marriage to be a picture of His love for the church. We know Ephesians 5, but we don't know how to live it. I can't feign respect for you any more than you seem to be able to make sacrifices to show me love. If you want another anniversary, you're going to have to woo me back. I don't trust you enough to try anymore. You're going to have to prove to me that I can trust you. If not, who are we fooling? We might as well end the charade."

The front of the card could show a picture of a tennis ball bouncing in front of a net along with the words, "The ball's in your court now..."

What do you think?

Would it be bitchy to drop the charade less than a year after his mother passed away? Or while his dad's still in the rehabilitation center, waiting to to learn if he'll ever be able to return home again? Would it be bitchy to speak the truth on our anniversary? Maybe I should do it the day before our anniversary so he can save the cost of a dinner we can't afford, but that would still be during the grieving grace period . . .

How many more evil holidays must we endure?

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.

Strength from Safety

I've been fluctuating a lot this week. The past has shown me the damage that can be done by impulsive action, so, even though an accusing voice in my head calls me weak for not "doing something," I think where I am right now is searching for clarity. Seeing clearly is essential if I am to make wise decisions, and presently there is too much confusion.

I've been praying for wisdom. While researching a project, I stumbled upon an article on divorce that seemed to verify the sense that I've had of being deserted.

http://www.beliefnet.com/Love-Family/Relationships/2007/06/Let-There-Be-Divorce.aspx

I'll have to look back on the actual vows that Todd and I agreed to (even if I actually didn't say the vows, as Todd alleges, he said them... I think). I wonder if there was any mention of provision in the vows of the church we were married in. However it was worded, I think it's pretty obvious that there has been some vow-breaking in both directions here.

All that said, I don't question my right to divorce. That isn't the issue. The issue is whether or not I should assert that right.

"All things are lawful, but not all things are profitable. All things are lawful, but not all things edify."

1 Corinthians 10:23

The world does not revolve around me. There are others to be considered. I don't want to be responsible for causing another to stumble because of my own selfish actions. That's the bigger picture. That doesn't mean I should be a doormat or an enabler... but it does mean that I'd better be good and sure that I have examined my own heart.

I've often said that the world would be a better place if people would put more emphasis on their responsibilities than their rights. I know my rights. What I'm seeking clarity on now is my responsibility. Unlike the impression that I've gotten from Todd, I know that responsibility is not a burden, but rather a wonderful opportunity to fulfill what we are designed to do. Part of the reason Todd has been miserable for so much of his life is because he doesn't embrace the opportunity of responsibility. Living with him, and feeling neglected, I too must admit having fallen into that trap. "Todd's not going to contribute or sacrifice, so why should I?"

After my last blog posting, a dear, true friend admonished me:

I really think that the cat is out of the bag! He has not verbalized the ending to his story until now, cuz he knows that you will not be interested in it. SO he is passively leading you down the road to his ending, with no options. You seem to instinctively know the end he had in mind and in your own denial were stalling and hoping that God would save you or provide a different ending. I think you need to speak your desire out loud! You have to “call it out”! you have to speak the truth in love and tell him NO! his ending would be suicide for you…..your dream, the one you were made for has gotten off track. He is abusing you to live his dream, with no consideration for yours. I predict he 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. I think you have been very very patient and actually enabling him all these years. I think in order to be guilt free, you have to start to call this stuff out into the open. You need some Back up plans though. I did have to leave a couple of times, I did not have a full blown plan, but I did have to call it out! I felt I had to give [my husband] a chance to make the right choice. I think you have to tell him flat out, that you are not interested in his ending. I do not think you should be afraid. I also think that you need to get a better understanding on the legal system.... [This] is a no fault state. I think you need to freeze your assets before he bankrupts you and then splits to his dad’s. DON”T LAY DOWN! Or faint!

The thing that stood out to me was the idea of giving Todd a chance to make the right choice. Calling out my desires. Let him know that I'm not interested in the ending he is headed toward. I feel like I've done that, but have I done it specifically enough and clearly enough? It's not even so much an issue of his dreams vs. mine. When I read her words, "He is abusing you to live his dream, with no consideration for yours", I thought that wasn't exactly true. It's more like he's so afraid of pursuing his own dreams that he's settling, and he's pulling me down with him.

He may have a dream of a life of ease back where he grew up, but deep down inside I believe he realizes what a fantasy that is. He knows that moving back home would mean the death of his dreams, too, but he's too afraid to do anything else. Because of this, I wonder if the "calling out" I really need to do is the pointing out of how he is throwing his own dreams away and insisting that I'm not willing to go down that path. It would be unloving for me to let him commit emotional suicide by giving up without a fight.

What if the best way to make him fight for what is important to him is to leave him? That is possible. What's keeping me from doing it?

Well, in the midst of my growing resolve to quit being an enabler and to be more proactive, circumstances have taken another sudden turn. I've heard it said that there are certain stressful circumstances during which you shouldn't make big life-altering decisions (things like hormonal fluctuations of pregnancy or menopause, grieving over a lost loved one, extreme sleep-deprivation, etc.) After the Charlie fiasco, I've tried not to repeat that decision-making faux pas. In fairness, I can't ask Todd to do that either.

A few months ago, Todd lost his mom. No longer having the "other woman" controlling his life has been a change that I can see could be positive in the long run as far as growing up goes. She was an incredible enabler--sending him checks to cover our mortgage and bills more than he ever admitted to me. His dad has helped out, too, but he's not as regular with his support, so we have been struggling more since his mom passed away. That led me to pose the question to a friend: "If it has been Todd's parents, and not Todd, who have been providing for us all these years... when they both pass away will that make me a widow?" Well, just days after asking that, Todd's dad landed in the hospital. Things are pretty chaotic right now, but one thing that is questionable is if his dad will be able to go home alone. He's just about used up his allowed time in the hospital, and will be transferring to a rehabilitation home across the street from the hospital in a few days. It's uncertain if he will ever be able to go home on his own.

I do not want my [alleged child-molester] father-in-law moving in with us, but I also don't want to move out of state to be with him, so I did suggest the idea that if he needs our help, it would be easier for us if he were to relocate than for us to relocate. He's not a very social person and he's out-lived most of the friends he had, so he wouldn't miss nearly as many people as we would if we were forced to move (including our adult and soon-to-be-adult children who certainly would not follow us out of state)... and since he's retired, it wouldn't make sense for us to be the one's moving away from schools and better job opportunities. I wish Todd could spend some time with his father, but we don't have the money for him to fly or drive out there, and we definitely can't afford for him to walk away from the work he has right now (since it's such a rarity). Our son made the comment that it's too bad we don't have more money so Daddy can just go back and stay with Grandpa for a while. He has no idea how much Mommy wishes we could afford that, too. I think him being away for a while right now might be a very good thing. He could see if he is able to find work back there. He could see if going home really would make him happy. And doing so might make the transition easier if we aren't going to make it.

I'm really not afraid of him bankrupting us nearly as much as I'm afraid of being stuck with a man I cannot respect. Last Sunday's sermon text--wouldn't you know it--came from Ephesians 5. If I'm convicted by my inability to respect, shouldn't he also be convicted by his shirking of loving me "as Christ loved the church and laid down his life for her"? The ultimatum, if it comes down to that, is that he has to grow up and take some responsibility. "I don't know what to do," just won't cut it anymore. How do I tell him that he'd better figure it out? And is now the appropriate time?

If it is decided that his dad will not be moving home, we may be faced with the challenge of what to do with his dad's house sooner than I expected. That could be an opportunity for growth. Will he try to hold on to an unneeded house for sentimental reasons while teetering on the edge of loosing our family home? (We've been waiting a long time for him to "leave his mother and father and cleave unto his wife"). Will he work with his dad to sort through the years of accumulated stuff and sell the house or rent it out? Or will he insist on moving back there so his dad can stay in the house a little longer, even if it means going alone?

If it does come to some sort of ultimatum, it will either have to be in writing, or with some sort of mediation. I don't feel emotionally safe conversing with Todd about these things. It has never turned out well in the past. Is it a sign of weakness to admit that I don't feel safe?

Not feeling safe... That makes me think of another little (slightly odd) thing that I almost blogged about last week:

There is one television show that I'm addicted to. Fringe. Anyone who follows the show knows that Peter and Olivia have loved each other for some time, but have struggled with connecting largely because of Olivia's fears. In last week's episode, Olivia was in danger because the deceased William Bell (Leonard Nemoy) had taken over her body and what was supposed to be a temporary situation threatened to permanently displace Olivia as her consciousness became "lost." The team was forced to take LSD and go into her mind in search of Olivia (gotta love Sci-Fi!) Anyway, after traveling through an Inception-like world that even included cartoons and zombies, Peter was finally able to find Olivia by figuring out the last place she had ever felt safe. Even though she ultimately had to save herself, the strength to do so came from discovering that safe place within her. When she came to, she was like a new person, free and safe for the first time in years. As I watched the conclusion of that silly little episode, a wave of emotion washed over me, and I thought, Oh how I wish I could find my safe place!

Where it gets interesting is this week, when we were watching the following episode, there was a scene near the beginning in which Olivia wakes up in Peter's arms. She is content and happy like her character has never before been. In that instance, Todd said, "They finally figured it out, didn't they?" I'm sure he would like to awaken in the bliss that Peter did, with a woman who loves and respects him in his arms. If only he could understand that a big reason that isn't happening is that with him, I struggle to find a safe place where I can be truly honest. I am like Olivia, wounded and hiding.