The Moon, the Crazy Moon

I felt that pain in my chest today. Not the kind associated with medical maladies, but rather that deep sobbing that may not even make a sound, but it feels like it's capable of turning you inside-out. Was it something Todd said? you may ask. No. Not at all. Todd has hurt me but he has never moved me to tears like this. This was the rare tug--the pull of true loss. I felt it at my sister's funeral, and I felt it when I was driving home after Charlie and I split up, while his child was still growing inside my womb.

What would bring about such internal contortion? Nothing Todd could say or do. I'm growing immune to his prodding. I think that comment he made a few weeks ago, "I didn't say 'we,'" in reference to moving back to the midwest, coupled with his accusation the following day that I had intentionally fainted at our wedding to get out of saying the vows combined to form the last straw. He can tick me off or annoy me... but really move me? Not so much.

What was it, then? I guess you could call it another silly self-therapy move. I wonder if I could get my own show on the DIY network.

I was reading excerpts from the book, Living with the Passive-Aggressive Man, and I started to feel really paranoid. I ran from room to room, closing the blinds on the windows and making sure the doors were locked, disassembled every smoke detector and heating vent to be sure there weren't any hidden cameras, dissected the phones in search of bugs, and peered into each closet (and the refrigerator) looking for spies. How could Scott Wetzler, Ph. D. know so much about what goes on in our house without the assistance of surveillance technology? What I read planted a tiny suspicion in my head... the thought that the problem between Todd and me is not completely about me being "crazy and impossible to talk to." Maybe I wasn't just imagining the mind game olympics that have been leaving me confused and feeling emotionally spent.

But then I went back to the log-eye thing.

Don't think of yourself more highly than you ought, I told myself. Todd's not the only one who has accused you of being an awful person, Bridget. Maybe it's true.

My mind went back more than a couple decades to that fateful, pivotal day when Doug told me everything that was wrong with me in one sitting. He didn't want to spend time with me anymore. It was over. Every time I walked by his best friend on campus, I'd hear him mutter the words, "hateful" or "Jezebel." Accusations like that don't just spring out of thin air, do they? Way back when this was happening, I confronted Doug's friend, asking him why he called me those things. All I was ever able to get out of him was that I had hurt Doug. When I tried to get him to tell me how, all he would say was, "at least you weren't married."

All of these years, that whole series of events has been confusing to me. I still don't know what happened. I still don't know what I did to hurt Doug. I've suspected that he liked me as more than a friend and he took my lack of response to his hints as a rejection, but I've never confirmed that. As those of you who have been following this blog know, Doug and I have been reconciled for quite a while. We're actually good friends now. But I still never figured out what went wrong way back then. He chalks it up to "we were young... naive... immature..." That's never really been enough clarity for me, but you can only dig so much when the others involved are pouring concrete and constructing buildings on the spot in question. I've let it go, wanting to know more every time one of my kids comes to me seeking advice on similar situations of the heart, but knowing that the only way to find out would be to come right out and ask him... which I still guess I fear might scare him away (I may also be a little afraid of what a blow it would be to my self esteem if I were to find out after all these years that he never did like me as anything more than just a friend, and that I was delusional to think that that was what had hurt him.)

Anyway, I finally did it yesterday. I finally broke down and told him that I really need to know what it was that I did, didn't do, said, or didn't say that caused him such great hurt that he didn't want to be around me anymore back then. What did I think knowing would accomplish after all these years? I may not have really known when I sent the message, but it couldn't be un-sent. As the day went by, I came to realize that it was, at least in part, self-sabotage--fishing for ammunition to use against myself. Perhaps he would raise accusations that would collude with what Todd says about me, confirming that I really am an awful person. You see, on the flip side of wondering how it was that I hurt Doug, part of me has always wondered IF I really hurt him... or if it was really just part of a game. He had spent time with me when he didn't have anyone else to spend time with, and then, when our mutual "friend" who was interested in dating him came into the picture, he tired of me, and the "you hurt me" story was just a convenient way to get rid of me. For all I know, that's just as likely to be true as the he had a crush on me delusion.

He did write back. And what he said didn't bring any more clarity.

"i appreciate the fact that you're trying to work through some really aweful pieces of our mutual past. however, i honestly can't remember any feelings about you that would have caused me to react to you in the way you described.

"here is my conclusion: like many people, i was a very confused and certainly a very insecure person. as we've discussed, i had my own issues with [our mutual friends]. i'm sure this included trying to impress them to the point of trying to make myself look like someone i wasn't--to the extent of acting out the immense insecurity that still haunts me to this day.

"knowing [the guy who called me "hateful"] as i did, he (like me) was often sarcastic and enjoyed the folly of mixed messages. i honestly cannot make any connection between you and the biblical jezebel in my wildest accounts and interpretation of what was going on back then. everything seemed to be about being funny, getting the laughs, and actually feeding each other in ways that were never conducive to real friendship or mutual understanding. the reality is, if we had the tools, we didn't apply them to all relationships to make them what they needed to be. rather, we did what we needed to do to make certain relationships work.

"if you were to see [those old mutual friends] right now, you wouldn't recognize them. they both have grown into truly godly, really terrific people, and the stuff we knew 26-plus years ago is no longer part of who they are. in fact, if we were to broach it, they, too, would likely be embarrassed and even repentent. i suspect that this would be the necessary connector for you: knowing that we all were young and immature, which doesn't necessarily cover over the multitude of sins, but helps to bring understanding for what we may continue to feel.

"here's a start. i'm happy to keep this going in processing through with you."

And I did reply to that message, but I'm not holding my breath in anticipation of anything that will bring any more clarity at all. It was while I was writing that reply that my chest did the contorting on me--while I was imagining all the horrible truths that could come out if I kept digging.

What will I do if he does at some point reveal to me that my suspicions of our friendship having always been a whole lot more lop-sided than I was willing to admit are true? I suspect it will be more of those deep chest contortions... hurting something awful... but it will be worth it to have the truth, right?

On another note, to celebrate my anniversary (a day late and alone) I watched a movie called Ira and Abby. It's a pretty cynical look at marriage, and therapy . . . How fitting!

Love this exchange:

Abby: Do you have a girlfriend?

Ira: No, I have a fear of perishables.

For some reason, as soon as it finished, I thought of the lines about marriage in Moonstruck:

Ma: Do you love him, Loretta?

Loretta: Ma, I love him awful.

Ma: Oh God, that's too bad.

It's kind of a relief that I don't love Todd awful. It's kind of a comfort to be numbed to that pain in the chest.

'til death do us part...

Happy Anniversary, Bridget & Todd!

years...

and in each year...

the hours...

210,240 down

I Need to Get Away (from this eggshell linoleum)

The past few days, I've been battling vertigo on and off. We had a birthday party and sleep-over for one of the kids (ie. no sleep), and I had an important meeting with a potential client. Oh, and then there's the PPMS issues (I don't have problems with PMS, it's what comes after it... I'd refer to it as MS, but that label's already been claimed by Multiple Sclerosis, so I just call it Post-PMS): headaches, dizziness, weakened immune system (ie. catching all the bugs the kids bring with them to the party), and increased sensitivity to moodiness (not just my own).

In the midst of this, I let the dishes pile up. Time, energy, and motivation to bully my charges into doing their jobs was low, and since my son who was supposed to load the dishwasher has been suffering a bad spell with his asthma and his brother was celebrating his birthday, and sisters studying for finals, I let it go, figuring I'd work on catching up tomorrow.

Today. A day of rest--what a novel concept!

Tomorrow. Tomorrow will have enough troubles of its own without me fretting about it now. All would wait graciously to be resolved tomorrow if I were a single parent, but alas Todd's timing doesn't allow for tomorrow (unless it's something HE wants to put off until tomorrow--like transferring funds to cover an automatic payment [yep, he let it slide again, wasting another $34 in overdraft charges], finishing a half-done home-improvement project, returning calls to line up the next self-unemployment job...) So, he's in there now, clanging around the dishes, certainly chipping them, and emitting such attitude that I don't dare go in there ("It's too late") even to get a bite of food--not with the headache already there, hovering just under the surface, awaiting the slightest trigger.

Our daughter wants a ride to a friend's house. No one can help Todd now, once he's in this state, so why not let her go? But she needs a ride. Todd is trying hard to pretend not to be in a bad mood, so he's put on a facade of being approachable. Yesterday, when the birthday party boys needed transportation, he said no. I could do it. So I took a carload of boys to their Lego store outing. And I didn't complain, not until the overuse of florescent lightbulbs in that store began to trigger my latent Epileptic tendencies. That may be part of why I'm so dizzy today. Not to keep track of mileage, but I thought it not at all unreasonable to ask Todd to take a few minutes to drive his daughter to a local friend's house after I made the hour and a half plus round-trip with the boys yesterday. I might have even gone in and worked on the kitchen while he drove her... I'd feel much safer operating a dishwasher in my condition than a moving vehicle with one of my precious children on board.

Todd is not about working together on things, though. So, I drove across town on surface streets, taking it easy and informing our daughter that she might need to take control of the wheel if I passed out. The way back without her? No problem. It would just be me in the car then so it really wouldn't matter. I made it back safely, though I almost wish I hadn't. I don't want to be here. The kitchen is clean, for now, but the distance between Todd and I is even greater. I do wonder what it would be like to work as a team. Tomorrow is our anniversary. He cleaned the kitchen. If he decides to get himself flowers, they should look nice on the counter (the half-finished counter in our half-finished kitchen make-over, that is).

I'm not complaining. It was, after all, just a promise. When we were house-hunting years ago and I said the only thing I didn't like about this house was the kitchen, he said that would be "easy to fix," and he promised to do so . . . . Tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, or the day after the day after . . . .

All I'm asking for is the occasional mercy of being permitted a tomorrow of my own without being forced to tread eggshell flooring

(that, was never part of the redesign plan).

Nudge, Nudge, Wink, Wink, Say No More... The Gospel According to Monty Python

I've always loved how seemingly unrelated subjects can piece together and create a sense of unity, integration. My favorite classes in college were those that combined disciplines. A compartmentalized life is no life at all--it is merely a mechanical drudgery. There is a certain flow that makes me feel more comfortable in my world and in my skin when I am able to recognize the interconnectedness of it all.

A blog I recently read, entitled Learning to Be Unhappy, made this excellent point:

"Alot of people that I work with have been learning to be unhappy much of their lives. The tendency is to compartmentalise their lives and say that they are doing great at work but their home life is a mess or vice-versa . This is a false dichotomy . You have one life - not a "home life" and a "work life" and a "something else life." And if any one aspect of your life is out of whack, your life is not working and the ramifications are felt everywhere."

"You have one life." I like that. It resonates of all that has seemed most truthful in all my years of existence. Everything is more bearable when put in the proper perspective. Pain wasn't meant to be separated from love (and visa versa), just as seriousness wasn't meant to overshadow silliness. It all pieces together and enriches the totality of this thing we call life.

Likewise, at the risk of sounding heretical, I love it when Biblical Scripture meets Monty Python. Follow me, if you will, down the bunny trail of my ADD (if you have a similar mind, this will make sense, if not... well, enjoy being normal).

In the quest to find God's answers to my relational woes, I've been reading a lot in Proverbs, the Gospels, and Ephesians lately. I was going to make a blog entry with some of the verses that have been jumping out at me (especially Proverbs)--verses that have been speaking to me about what it means to be a helpmeet and how "speaking the truth in love" fits in. As any reader who has been following me lately knows, I've really been grappling with the balance of calling out those things which I find unacceptable in a relationship and being humble enough to search out those things that are unacceptable in me. The verse from Matthew 7:3 about how we should take the plank out of our own eyes before attempting to take the speck out of a brother's eye has been a touchstone. So, in preparing to blog, I googled "plank eye images" and found this lovely gem:

The image led me to the blog it was created for: a piece entitled Yank the Plank by Steve Lummer. Since this blog was part two of a post on “Negotiating Change with people you care about”. I thought it might be a good idea to also look at part one, so I checked out Steve's archives.

ADD prevailing (or divine guidance or a simple case of getting lost), I ended up stumbling upon a different (but nonetheless appropriate) entry: Mending Broken Relationships (yet another case of things tying together.) The verse about soup and steak at the beginning was a verse I had just read earlier today, and there was some really good stuff to chew on in that blog. In answer to the question, "Are relational deaths predictable?", Blogger Lummer cited the three "R"s of Resentment, Retaliation, and Resignation as predecessors of relational death. The verse he connected to resignation fit in so well with the discussion that developed in the comments on my Is Honesty the Best Policy? Even on a Holiday? blog. He quoted the verse from the Good News Translation of the Bible (which, although the deep meaning may be the same, on the surface it sounds quite different from the translations I am used to reading). The verse read:

“Someone who holds back the truth causes trouble, but one who openly criticizes works for peace."

Proverbs 10.10 (Good News)

This is where Monty Python comes in. (And you thought I was lost on that bunny trail!) When I googled Proverbs 10:10 the King James Version translation jumped out at me, reminding me of a favorite old Monty Python sketch...

"He that winketh with the eye causeth sorrow: but a prating fool shall fall."

Proverbs 10:10 (KJV)

...a sketch that incidentally refers to marriage.

All of this rambling brings me nicely back to my original intention of today's blog. It seems that most of the comments on this blog have come from other women, who are or have been in situations similar to mine. That's great. It helps so much to know that I'm not alone. However, since I'm not wanting to stall out in pity party mood or define myself (or my sisters) by our misery, I'm hoping that some readers who have seen the other side to the equation (the male perspective), might comment on how a wife can fulfill the role of helpmeet, and speak the truth in love. I do realize that there are a lot of times when we're better off remaining silent and letting our actions speak... but there are times when remaining silent seems an awful lot like winking and unwittingly condoning destructive behavior.

Case in point: Yesterday, a man who has given Todd work in the past left a message on our phone, saying that since Todd hadn't returned his calls when he had called to ask him to work, this man had hired someone else to do the work. He said he hoped Todd was finding work because he knew times were hard and we needed it, but he couldn't wait around while Todd was apparently "hiding under a rock." He mentioned the name of the person he had given the job to and gave a ballpark estimate of how much the man had made on that and another job he had passed his way because Todd would not respond. In the time since this man dropped by to see Todd because his calls were not being answered (when Todd was sleeping in and refused to come to the door), this other man was estimated to have made about five thousand dollars. During that same time period, Todd has only deposited five hundred dollars to our bank account. We are so deeply in debt and on the verge of late payments all the time that five thousand would have been a dream. The message this man left was not harsh, but he was trying to be honest and speak the truth in love. He was obviously trying to open Todd's eyes to missed opportunities so that he wouldn't miss them in the future. He didn't have to take the time to do this. What was Todd's reaction? He called up the other guy--the one who was hired to the work--and quizzed him to try to find holes in the boss's story.

"[The boss] didn't pay Edgar, someone else did, and that job didn't pay five thousand dollars... more like half that amount," Todd said. He completely ignored the fact that the boss was referring to more than one job and that he never claimed to have been the one who paid the man or to have known the exact amount. Todd was nit-picking details to try to prove that he hadn't been foolish (defensively shifting blame, as usual), and yet, the proof is in our near-to-overdrawn bank account.

So, then I'm reading in Proverbs and I come across the verse:

"He who disdains instruction despises his own soul, but he who heeds rebuke gets understanding. The fear of the LORD is the instruction of wisdom, and before honor is humility."

-Proverbs 15:32-33

and

"Folly is joy to him who is destitute of discernment, but a man of understanding walks uprightly. Without counsel, plans go awry, but in the multitude of counselors they are established." (v. 21-22)

It would be one thing if Todd didn't claim to believe that Bible stuff, but he sees himself as righteous. What am I to make of that?

"A scoffer does not love one who corrects him, nor will he go with the wise." (v. 12)

We're supposed to be a team--one flesh. I'm getting tired of being on the losing team.

"The LORD will destroy the house of the proud, but He will establish the boundary of the widow." (v. 25)

I feel like a widow. What's a wife to do when hubby's just not getting it and it's become more than she can bear? I'd like to hear a husband's reply.

Is there a way that the truths stated above can be shared in humility, in a way that would get through to a man's heart?

"A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. The tongue of the wise uses knowledge rightly, but the mouth of fools pours forth foolishness."

-Proverbs 15:1-2

Unless things change, I'm just not ever going to be able to be "a go" or "a sport" with him without feeling like a total fraud if you know what I mean... nudge, nudge, wink, wink... say no more.

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.