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.

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.

The Sarah Connor Training Program

Here's another analogy to keep me focused when I get impatient about the big changes I long for (especially those I'm simply not ready for--physically, emotionally, spiritually, relationally):

As I was on my two mile power walk this morning, I reminded myself that I'm still "in training." My body is very different from what it was a year ago--before I started taking healthy diet and exercise seriously. Rounding the track on my fourth lap, I recalled how difficult even this feat would have been just nine months and 40 pounds ago. Even something as simple as walking (walking, mind you, not running) is magnified in difficulty when you carry excess weight.

It's the same in the less physical aspects of life--carrying baggage not only slows us down, it also makes us clumsy and more likely to get hurt or even fail in our quest. It took time to pile on the pounds that were weighing me down and keeping me from the exercise I needed. It took time to put on the weight, and when I resolved to start exercising it wasn't an instant freedom... I labored away, little by little, gradually increasing my pace on the treadmill and the numbers on my dumbbells. When I stopped at the exercise area of the park to use the equipment and do a few sit-ups, I was impressed by how, in spite of all the changes I've seen in my body and all the things I can do that I couldn't a year ago, there are still some pretty basic moves that I can't do. I still feel trapped in a body that limits my freedom to move about as I would like to. Then I thought about the difference between actress Linda Hamilton's physique in The Terminator and the sequel, Terminator 2. She had to go through some pretty intense training for that transformation.

How many years did it take Sarah Connor to buff up and be ready to meet the challenge of her "Judgement Day" in Terminator 2? It was seven years between movies, but I believe the time span depicted was actually longer. Sarah's battle against the cyborgs is similar to the looming battle Todd and I are going to have to fight if we are to make it as a couple (or rise above the unacceptable status quo one way or another as individuals.) I don't know what the outcome will be, but I do know that there will be a battle--Judgement Day is inevitable--the day when our relationship will face the ultimate trial which we have been putting off with dishonesty.

Thinking of the training that is necessary to prepare for physical confrontation made me feel a little more comfortable about not pushing for all the changes at once. I've hung in this marriage for almost a quarter of a century--more than half my life. I don't have to fix it all right this minute. The fixing must start with me. It would be foolish to burst out demanding instant change when I don't even know what I want. The one thing I do know is that I not only want, but I also need, to be stronger (in all aspects of my being). As I typed that, I was reminded of the scripture about finding our strength in the Lord.

"And lest I should be exalted above measure by the abundance of the revelations, a thorn in the flesh was given to me, a messenger of Satan to buffet me, lest I be exalted above measure. ⁸ Concerning this thing I pleaded with the Lord three times that it might depart from me. ⁹ And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. ¹⁰ Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong." (I Corinthians 12:7-10)

This reminds me of all the times I have gotten distressed over Todd not bringing in a consistent income and providing some sense of security. I get worried, even though scripture also instructs me not to worry:

²⁵ “Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? ²⁶Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? ²⁷ Which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature?
²⁸ “So why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; ²⁹ and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. ³⁰Now if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?³¹ “Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’³² For after all these things the Gentiles seek. For your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. ³³ But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you. ³⁴ Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble. (Matthew 6:25-34)

I've been at that place so many times: That place where I realize that in spite of the fact that I doubt, I've never had a reason to doubt the Lord for his provision. He has always been faithful to me. As depressing as my relationship with Todd is, as unstable the security (or lack thereof) of it, there is one thing good about it that I am actually thankful for: Todd's inability (or unwillingness) to provide security for the children and me through diligent work on his part has made it easier for me to continue to look to the Lord for my security, rather than idolizing a mere man. If Todd were a super ambitious workaholic, who's to say I wouldn't be tempted to look to him for provision and idolize him as my provider. I can only imagine what kind of strength would be necessary to resist such temptation, so there is no way that I can boast about my reliance on God--I've had it easy.

All speculation aside, I honestly don't know what it would be like to walk in the shoes of a woman with a successful husband. That leads me to view strength as a very pliable thing. It's not a one-size-fits-all sort of commodity, what is a strength for one person can be a weakness for another. The only strength that really measures up and makes us fit for our unique trials is the strength that is custom-fit through a relationship with God. He sees all (even the things we lie to ourselves about), so only He can truly outfit us for our personal challenges. We can't do it ourselves because we are all liars (whether conscious or not--it's the human survival program). It is in relationship with Him that our lies can be burned away by the penetrating light (fire) of His truth.

Spiritual wellness has to be the cornerstone of my search for strength, and although I do believe in miracles, reaching that wellness is not guaranteed to be an instantaneous thing. And, if it ever is reached, it is not guaranteed to be permanent--just like my lost weight and increased muscle mass--without diligence I'll morph right back into my double-digit pants' size.

So I will be patient, not expecting it all to change at once, and focusing on doing what I can do to be diligent... diligent mainly to move in the right direction--always to truth, always to truth.

"Remove from me the way of lying,
And grant me Your law graciously."

(Psalm 110:29)

If it takes five years, fine. Seven--I'll work it like Linda Hamilton, with God as my personal trainer. If it takes 12 years, like Sarah Connor, may I persist, knowing that that Judgement Day is coming, and purge myself of the baggage that would keep me from pulling through that day whole and victorious... and free.

Playing with Fire

Just a quick postscript to yesterday's reflection on the possibility of a tiny Sea Monkey turning into a Fire-Breathing Sea Monster... and the confession about the message (contact) that cannot be unsent.

The implications are broader than just a couple of little notes (one out-going, the other in-coming). Charlie now has the email address that is attached to my faux facebook AND THIS BLOG. That means, if Charlie is clever enough and curious enough, he could find this blog.

That realization could have sent me into a frenzy, scrubbing the internet of all evidence of Bridget and falling back into the shadows where I have been hiding for so long.

I'm not going to do it.

So what if he finds this blog?

I'm trying to reinvent myself as a bolder, braver, and more honest person. I saw the anonymous comment on my last blog entry that suggested that salvation comes through integration... and that the "good girl" I spoke of is only part of who I truly am--that the "good girl" needs to go out to dinner with Bridget and get to know her.

In that same spirit, I must admit that Charlie is a chapter of the story of not only who I was, but also who I am. There may be elements of the Charlie story about which I'm not being totally honest because I've been lying to myself. If Charlie were to read this and recognize himself in the narrative, it wouldn't be the end of the world.

I'm not afraid.

Should I be?

The only reason I see to be afraid is if I'm not telling the truth. (And since it's possible that I have lied to myself about some things that are too painful to embrace, or that in the lying to Todd that has been necessary to keep the peace, I have started to believe some of those very lies. It is possible that Charlie could call me on factual errors I make as I recall the happenings of the life chapter we shared. Lies have done enough damage. I do not fear the truth, but rather long for it.)

True, I may be playing with fire, but fire is not necessarily destructive. It can do good if it burns away the lies that enslave us. I recall the prairie fires of my childhood rolling toward the tiny town that I lived on the very edge of--tongue extending toward our little house, as a panting hungry beast, intent on licking us off the map. But those weren't the only flames. The volunteer fire-fighters set controlled burns to destroy the fuel that the fire-breathing monster needed in order to reach us. If we had been too fearful to allow the controlled fire to be ignited near our house, the fuel would have remained and we likely would have been consumed.

I'm not afraid of Charlie reading this, but I am afraid of Todd reading it.

What is the difference?

One might guess that it's simply because I have to live with Todd, but that's not it. I don't have to live with him--I'm choosing to, for now at least. The biggest difference I can think of is indicative of a deeper problem that will eventually need to be dealt with if I am to stay married:

Perhaps I'm not afraid of Charlie finding this because Charlie always seemed to be a passionate truth-seeker. He didn't care if something contradicted his preconceived assumptions. He would dialogue and really listen, and he wouldn't get upset with someone for disagreeing with him.

Todd, on the other hand, is a master at ignoring even glaring truths if they don't fit in with the ideal landscape he's created in his mind of how things should be. That's why he lies to his parents all the time (and I don't think he even realizes he does this, because he's lying to himself as well). That's also why he stops listening if I say something that doesn't fit into his idea of how things should be. I'm just realizing, as I type this, how stifling that behavior has been to my growth as a person. I don't mean to play the "poor victim" here, I accept the fact that by allowing this to go on for so long, I am guilty of enabling the behavior.

Realizing that, I want change. The truth is hard; however, even if it's a slow smothering death, a lie will eventually kill. I want to be free even if it requires some extra pain along the way. Can I handle the truth? I think so. I really think I can. Todd, however... well, let's just say I'm not so sure. The lies have become so ingrained--so habitual--for him that I really don't think he can handle the truth.

What is the truth?

(Now, this is just off the top of my head, mind you, but I'll give it a whirl at putting down in words the things I cannot presently tell Todd.)

First off, I don't want to be with Charlie. I know he's not good for me that way. We could be friends, but we never should have been anything beyond that.

If I were given the choice, however, between someone like Charlie or someone like Todd, I would have to say that the someone like Charlie would be better for my mental well-being because he would actually accept me for who I am.

With Charlie, I don't think I'd feel relationally secure. He cheated with me, so he would probably cheat on me. But with Charlie I would feel free to be, and to grow, and to express my true self--a person who is not static. I'm at a place in my life where I feel like that is just as important (if not even more so) than physical faithfulness. Emotionally and intellectually, I don't feel safe and cherished with Todd.

I'd like for Todd to understand the differences that drew me to Charlie years ago, as I was simultaneously being repelled by Todd. Charlie made me feel safe in self-expression because he didn't judge me. Even though he treated me as an object by physically using me when he probably didn't really love me, Todd also treats me as an object on an intellectual level by shutting me out when what I'm saying doesn't agree with his plan (end of discussion--he either repeats his argument until I shut up, or "shuts me off" like an object by walking off, ignoring, and/or moping). When I don't fall in line with how he wants things to be, his reaction is similar to how he responds when the computer doesn't act the way he expects--like an object.

These are things that we will have to talk about, and the only way I see to do that safely and effectively would be with a counselor to mediate. We can't afford that right now, so I feel the need to tread water for a while. I know it probably looks like I'm just giving up, settling for the status quo, and enabling... but there are deeper things going on. I know it will take courage and strength to stand up to Todd in the way that I need to, and I'm not there yet. If I were to act hastily and set an ultimatum right now, or leave him right now, or ___, I would probably fall apart. I'm stronger than I was a year ago, but I don't think I'm strong enough to carry through yet, and I know that when I take a stand, I'd better be ready to carry through if Todd blows me off.

I guess you could say I'm in the midst of a control burn process. It's not yet time to unleash the wrath of Todd. There is a tiny scar on my arm, uncomfortably close to a large vein, that reminds me of what came of a confrontation I wasn't ready for. I'm not going to do that again. It may take a little while to get ready, but it will be worth it to take the time to be strong and prepared for success. I've already seen evidence on a smaller scale that when Todd sees me getting my sh!t together, he shapes up a little (even if it doesn't last long, it is an indication that he notices.) So, even if I'm not yet acting in an overtly proactive manner, I'm comfortable knowing that confrontation and ultimatum are not the only ways to affect the relationship.

For now we're on chapter "Get Bridget's Act Together."

And I'm not afraid.

Yearning

"Yearning is not only a good way to go crazy, but also a pretty good place to hide out from hard truth." (Jay Cocks, screenwriter, De-Lovely)


It's easy to be overcome by yearning. We live in a society that encourages it, advertising all the things we could have if only... (if only we had that job or that spouse or that degree from that school)... all the things they have (and look how happy they are!) Yearning sets us to work toward goals that, while seemingly good, put so much emphasis on the future we are saving for that we don't live well in the present. Then, we look back and say, "What was that all about?" (at which point it can become an equally "present-killing" distraction to live in the past, mulling over romanticized versions of the way things were along with stewing over regrets and "what if?"s.)

In this blog, I realize that I tread on shaky ground: wanting to sort out my past so I don't repeat its mistakes in the future. It's easy to neglect the present. Yearning is such a directional thing, always reaching forward or backward, out of the present. Treading water may seem like a waste of time. I mean, I'm drowning, for crying out loud! Shouldn't I be a-reachin' for something? It's in those still moments of treading water, however, that we are able to look around (to the past, to the future, to the options that we might never notice if not for the moments of stagnancy).

I'm going to continue the memoir aspect of this blog, but I'm going to also try to bring myself occasionally to the harbor of Now, because "now" is yesterday's future and tomorrow's past.


I am filled with yearning--so much so that it's almost a palpable presence, an entity that follows me, standing between me and the people in my life, blocking my view, casting shadows. I'm lonely, even though I am not alone. I'm bored, even though I have too much that needs to be done. I think it's because I'm disconnected. I need to find those connections that are real and truthful, rather than "hiding out" in the shadows of yearning.

Even my "therapist" can't help me with this. The more I connect with him the more I fear him. He makes the slightest little comment on something I wasn't saying to him... and I feel threatened, even stalked. He wants to be my friend, and I'm pushing him away because I feel the need to keep him neutral, objective, uninvolved... (and possibly also because I fear that if he takes too much interest in my life, I'll go weak at the knees and find myself yearning for more than just his advice.)

The last time my yearning meter was this high, I made a really big mistake that almost destroyed a lot of people, a mistake that still looms over me with threatening posture. Perhaps I'll work up the nerve to write about that soon.

I do want the hard truth, and I don't want to go crazy... so, I'd better tread some water, pay attention to the yearning meter, and try to get my bearings before panic causes me to drown.