Bullied

 

 

One of my sisters reached out to me this weekend because she was feeling like a failure as a mother--Well pretty much a failure at everything.  She wasn't drawing near into The Lord, wasn't sure she really understood the atonement, wasn't sure her kids were learning what they were supposed to, was afraid she was just trying to control her kids, etc., and the "what lack I yet" talk in conference had really beat her up.

Failure.

That is the trauma thought that came up at the end of my last counseling session when we were out of time.   It's been percolating in the back of my mind since then as I wait for my next session.

Failure.

I remember talking with An Heritage #4 about bullies.  I asked him if it was right for someone to put another person down, to criticize them and call them names and belittle them.  He was of course indignant. That is bullying after all.  So I pointed out that when he does negative self talk he is "bullying" himself.

Failure.

For some reason I believe I am a failure (in many areas). This one is going to take some time to figure out.    But in the meantime it's going on my list.

I'm a bully (to myself)

Exasperated

I have a confession.

When we were first married we used to watch the Jerry Springer show if there was nothing else on.  It was just too funny for words.  I mean who comes up with these show titles:  “The hickey came from the dog…I didn’t cheat!”,  “You slept with my stripper sister!”,  “My sister stole my gay boyfriend!”.   And of course it wasn’t a successful show until it broke out into a fight. 

It wasn’t long however until I realized I married into a Jerry Springer show.  A few years into our marriage two of H-er’s sisters that had been living together went their separate ways and refused to come to any family functions if the other was going to be there because “She stole my spoons!”. 

Or there was the Thanksgiving when one of H-er’s sisters literally jumped on him and started punching him while my mother-in-law screamed that she was going to call the police.  “You insulted my husband!”

Or another Thanksgiving when I was making something in the mixer and H-er stormed in and screamed at me to turn it off because it caused his internet upload to timeout and he lost all the data.  “Your cooking killed the internet!”
 

Or a Thanksgiving after that when I told the kids to pile all their blankets and pillows in the middle of the room with the suitcases so I could load them in the car, my sister-in-law accused me of trying to steal a pillow (my mother-in-law gave EVERYONE matching pillowcases) and screamed obscenities at me.  Everyone followed us out into the street yelling at us and as we drove away her daughter threw her 32oz slurpee at our windshield.   “She stole my pillow!”

Or recently when my father-in-law went into the hospital my sister-in-law withdrew $3000 in cash from his checking account and refused to explain where it was spent so H-er canceled the debit card.  She and her daughter then took to facebook and “outed” him in an effort to blackmail him into giving them more money.   They also called his mom and said that he refused to buy diapers for the kids and was trying to rob them of their inheritance at which point she got on the phone and began screaming at him about who was supposed to inherit what (note that she and my father-in-law have not been married or speaking for 33 years). “My dad’s not dead yet but he stole my inheritance!”

So when H-er called only 24 hours after my father-in-law’s death to tell me his mom and sister were already berating him about how his dad’s effects were to be divided, I groaned.   Please don’t let there be any fights at the funeral or at Thanksgiving the next week.  Let’s grow up people.  While you all did grow up in a trailer park you don’t have to be cliché.   

It was funny on the Jerry Springer show.  It’s not funny now.

 

Resentful

Addiction sure brings out the worst in me.

I remember the rage that swept over me when we were sitting in front of the counselor and H-er explained that he had called his former mistress because he wanted to make sure she had closure.  He found out she was having a difficult time because she thought that she was still in love with H-er.  He wanted to “come clean” to her about his marriage and lies so that she could stop waffling and move on with her life.   Doing this would relieve him of some of his guilt as well. 

Now I kind of laugh at it because it shows the completely twisted way that an addict thinks.  

The first wave of rage was because he was more concerned with her mental state than mine.   But the second wave that hit me almost immediately after the first was because of the realization that his family was complicit in all of this.  He had introduced her to his father and his sister and they were all friends on facebook.  While I was sitting in my father-in-law's house laughing and talking and eating he was hiding the fact that she had been at his house laughing and talking and eating just a few days before. 

I ended up sending my father in law the following text:

“I feel very hurt that you allowed M into your house.  I’m very humiliated knowing that I spend Christmas at your house while you and H-er and his sister kept this affair secret.  I don’t think I’ll be comfortable being around you or his sister in the future.”

His response:  “I’m sorry you feel that way.  I think we can see how things work later.”

This was in April.

He’s been in the hospital since then and this last weekend he passed away.  I’m including this in my 4^th step because I don’t really want to go to the funeral.  I don’t want to go to the funeral for a man who was an alcoholic that would call up his son and say “let’s go fishing”, and that son would sit on the corner for hours with his fishing gear waiting for his dad to show up,  and he wouldn’t show up because he was sitting at the bar drinking.   I don’t want to go to the funeral for a man who never paid child support.  I don’t want to go to the funeral for a man who didn’t have the courage to tell his son not to bring his mistress to his house.  I don’t want to go to a funeral for a man who shrugged off an apology.

But I’m going to go because when I married H-er his dad had finally decided to be part of his life.  So my children knew him.  He used to burn DVD’s for them and send them to us for the kids to watch.  He would invite them over for barbeques and to help water his garden.  He sent them birthday cards and money every year and also sent them Christmas money.  He proudly displayed their pictures and sent a GPS for An Heritage #1 on his mission.  He paid tuition for An Heritage #2.  So as a grandfather he left his mark.  Such that An Heritage #2 started crying when I told her his kidneys were failing and he wouldn’t live more than 24 hours. 

So even though I don’t want to drive all night (11 hours) to be there, my children need to be there because he was their grandfather. 

In the meantime I have to add these feelings toward my father- in-law to my inventory:
Resentful
Unfriendly
Bitter
Unforgiving
Unsympathetic
Hard-hearted
Irritated

 

Whimsical

Not sure that watching BYU football is good for my health.  I mean elevated adrenaline levels are not good for you over a sustained period of time.  I've already had to deal with a racing heart and short breathing from anxiety because of addiction trauma this week. Watching BYU play is like taking meth when you've already snorted cocaine.

 

Deadly.

 

Introspective

Control

I don't even know if that's the word.  Is that the opposite of free agency? 

One of my ARP sisters said she didn't understand why our trials have to keep coming and why they have to be so painful.  She just knew she has to keep putting one foot in front of the other and trusting.  It just would be nice to understand WHY.

That struck me because as I have done my fourth step I have come to recognize something about myself.  I understand WHY my trials are so painful.  I even think I know what I am supposed to learn from them.  At least one of the things anyway.

I want my children and spouse to do things the right way.  The least painful way.  I want them to do this to the point where I am willing to take away their free agency.  At times I have used manipulation, threats, withholding, bribing, etc (what mother hasn't).  But this is wrong.

I am not beating myself up over it.  I am just acknowledging it.  I think I even have good intentions. This is how they can be happy and I just want them to be happy.  But it's still wrong even if my intentions are good. 

If exaltation is the goal here which comes with eternal increase then someday I'm going to have spirit children with free agency.  I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this.  That's WHY I have the trials i do.   To figure out how to let others have their agency. And the reason WHY I am suffering so much in these trials is because I'm trying to CONTROL everyone around me.   And who better to help me than Heavenly Father and the Savior who said "free agency all the way" and STICKS BY IT although I frequently beg them not to.

Letting go of that control won't take away all the pain of course.  Because the original trial is still there. But let's face it.  A lot of my pain is self inflicted. Somehow these trials are going to teach me how to let others have agency.  The more I fight learning that lesson the more painful it is going to be.

How's that for a paradox? There is power in admitting powerlessness. There is freedom in restraint.

 

Supported

credit: it was in my facebook feed so I don't know who originated it.

 

That's how I was feeling as I debated going to my ARP meeting.  I was going to be late because of another appointment so I was on the verge of justifying not attending.  But I went.  And I'm glad I did.

I shared how I was feeling angry (which was masking my anxiety) because now I have to struggle with my children.  See all this time I've only had my spouse's addiction to deal with.  My children have been ideal.  They don't fight.  They do well in school.  They are healthy. They go to church.  I've had it easy.  Like God knew that I already had all I could handle. And I was grateful. 

But now I have to deal with school suspensions, law breaking, testimony doubting, sullen children.

No no no no no

I have to deal with that too? 

As one of the other ladies put it "I keep climbing the mountain expecting the valley only to find another mountain".

The meeting finished with one of the leaders sharing a message from a conference talk.  As she shared the story of Elder Stanfill's bike ride through a long dark tunnel and how his light was too dim I felt the tears come. He became uncomfortable and felt anxiety and confusion.  When he shared this with the other bike riders they gathered in close around someone else's stronger light and continued on.  Finally he saw a pinprick of light and he kept moving towards it.  As he got closer his anxiety began to ebb and his confidence increased.

I realized that this is just how it's going to be.  That pinprick of light is The End.  My life is not going to get easier. Maybe I'll get through this addiction thing with my spouse and now my struggling children, but the next trial is already waiting in the wings. There's no well lit areas in the middle of my tunnel.

So I have to gather those with lights around me (my ARP sisters) and just keep going all the way to the end.   I'm grateful for the program and the strength it provides for those of us struggling.

You can read Elder Stanfill's story here

Traumatized

DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!

It screams at you. In your mind it is clear.  You can see the danger and the destruction.   You know where safety is and all you want is to convince them to stop.  To come to safety.  They can't really want this self-destruction. 

That surge of adrenaline that is your body's way of preparing you and giving you that energy and strength to fight.  Only there is nothing to fight. Nothing to spend that on.  That absolute feeling of helplessness and powerlessness.

The urge to scream and kick and tear and throw things as if that will affect anything.  Only because it is something you CAN do.  Because you can do nothing else. 

You can't stop their destructive behavior.  You can't even get them on the phone to try to convince them to stop. How can you persuade them to stop if you can't even reach them? 

*****

The agony and insanity of it.  Sleep is impossible. Even though you know that you will pay for it all the next day at work it is impossible.   Anxiety gnaws at my belly and if I try to lie down it just roils and churns until I find myself rocking back and forth in the fetal position.

My heart pounds as if it is trying to escape my chest and thoughts chase each other in circles around my mind. I wrestle with anger because I know it's just a secondary emotion and underneath it if I could only face the fear and panic then maybe I could calm down.  I am being threatened.  My world, my hopes, my very reason for living.   It is all threatened.  And I want to fight for it with everything I have and I can't.  I am effectively bound and gagged and at the mercy of this threat.

*****

I return to my journal again and again drawing out my thoughts and emotions--demanding that they come out of the dark and into the light where they can be faced. 

And only then do I remember the words of a past therapist regarding fear.  "What's the worst he can do?"

And I named it. 

And he responded, "so what? If it happens you will have your chance to go to the Savior and demand justice."

And there it is.  Perspective.

Fear is ridiculous.  Panic is ridiculous. I am not in charge.  God is.  Do I trust Him or not?

So I’m on board mentally.  It’s just taking a while for my body to catch up. 

Can I get some sleep now?

Unaware

This time in yoga we talked about intentions.   It sounded like a great idea.  Every time you do yoga you have an intention.  Calm.  Peace. Gratitude. Etc.

So I decided I wanted to get rid of some of this trauma stored in my body.  So I set my intention as release and away we went.

I was doing fine (lots of shaking) and at one point an Heritage #2 asked if I was in pain (apparently I was grimacing). But I was feeling good. 

And then we switched up to some gentle floor work and BOOM the nausea hit.  Like overwhelming nausea. Like it was all I could do not to lose it.  I don't think my yoga mantra was supposed to be "please let this end soon".  But I made it through to the end by breathing. 

I still feel nauseated.

Remind me not to "intend" that again – or do that nasty twist thing we did.  I think I'll stick with serenity.  I'm going to go throw up now.

 

Jubilant

Boundaries are hard. 

Particularly boundaries with myself.

9:30 on a Saturday night and she wants to take the car to go to an auto show with her friends. (And she has to be the one to drive because none of her friends have cars but she can't tell me where the auto show is or what it's called).

I tell her she cannot use the car.

She begins to argue that she has a job and I said she could use the car if she has a job and that she is obeying curfew. 

I respond that she can use the car for work and doctors appointments.

She continues to argue with things like "why don't you trust me? You said I could hang out with my friends.  Why aren't you letting me? I came in and asked you nicely".

I managed to stay calm and not get roped into an argument and keep the focus on her request to use the car.   "Just because you ask for something nicely doesn't mean you will get everything you want".  Is this not a true lesson? 

"Then I'll just longboard over".

And even though it kills me "ok.  Your longboard is in the garage"

Because she is an adult and no matter what I think of her friends she has the right to hang out with them.   That's not the issue here.  The issue is that she tried to get her way with circular manipulative arguments about me not keeping my word.   And I recognized them and didn't get distracted and the situation didn't escalate. And there is my boundary. I can't try to control her.  Tonight I won the battle with myself. And as she leaves I smile at her and say "I love you" and she gives me a hug.  

Entertained

Sometimes I laugh at myself.

This weekend was a huge campout for scouts in this area.  The Candy Bomber was going to make an appearance.  So I made sure all the camping gear was ready and we headed to the church.

I didn't recognize anyone but that didn't surprise me as they just called all new leaders in our ward.  We loaded all the gear in someone's car and it wasn't until the boys complained that none of their friends were there that I started to doubt myself.

There are two churches on this road so when the email said meet at the church on G I assumed it was the building we meet in.   Turns out it wasn't.  So we hurried to unload the car and raced over to the other building. We made it just as they were about to pray and pull out.

Except we were missing a ground pad.

So I tore back to the other building only to find that they were at the stoplight heading away from the building. I flipped around and followed them to the next light. They saw me and rolled down the window. I thought maybe they could pass it to me but they had moved things around and it was in one of the other vehicles.

So I figured I'd follow them and get it when they arrived AND then I could hand it off to my son.  Everyone was going to the same place anyway.  It was perfect. 

Except that 5 minutes later they pulled over on the side of the freeway.  So I pulled over in front of them too.  They piled out of their cars and I got out and went back to find out what was going on.  A seatbelt had broken in one of the vehicles and so they had to move some kids around.

In the meantime I recovered the ground pad and began jogging back across the gravel and rocks to my car with it tucked under my arm.  I laughed to myself and said "this is nothing like jogging on the beach".

Back in the car I decided to follow them to the campsite (I didn't actually know where it was) and then an unknown caller called. 

It was An Heritage #4.

"Mom?  Are you all right?"

"Sure"

"Was that you running on the freeway?"

I had to laugh again. All the scouts and leaders had seen me running down the side of the freeway.

Then I got to the campsite.  There was a long line of at least 50 cars waiting to get in.  And it was now dark.  I decided I wasn't waiting around and so I pulled over and parked.  I began walking past all the cars.   I finally passed the last one who was at the checkpoint getting directions and continued on. That truck pulled up and the driver rolled down the window and asked "do you want me to take that to your son?"

I responded "do you know who my son is?"

"Yes Sister.  I'm his scout master".

Sure enough, when I was close enough to see, it was indeed our ward's scoutmaster with all the gear and I laughed to myself again that they had witnessed me trudging down the road with a ground pad under my arm.

The next day when An Heritage #4 came home he hugged me and said "when I saw how much you did just to get me a ground pad I cried".

 

Enlightened

I had the opportunity to clean the temple the other night.  I've worked in the laundry before but never cleaned the temple.  I admit I was excited. 

I learned that this is a nightly thing (except Saturday and Sunday night).  The temple is a VERY clean place.

There was a moment where I felt sad.  I was sitting in the small chapel waiting for everyone to arrive.  They began arriving in couples.  As I realized this I became very aware of my "single" state.  This is what eternity in the Celestial Kingdom looks like--Lots of couples with a shared purpose and understanding.  And let's face it, it's not looking too good for me.  But I moved on quickly and enjoyed my time cleaning the temple.  My contributions were just as valued and necessary and I could give 100% of my effort. 

Over the last few days I've seen a lot of comments on social media about the recent policy clarifications regarding children of same sex marriages. 

One particular comment suggested that being a worthy gay LDS member meant repressing your sexuality and living a lonely life.   In the temple last night it became clear to me that neither the Plan of Salvation nor marriage are about sexuality.

Rather it is about a shared faith in God and a commitment to covenants.  Where is the loneliness in that?  When a fulfilling marriage becomes defined as being able to connect sexually with a person you are sexually attracted to it diminishes what marriage really is.  It diminishes the Plan of Salvation.

This is the real war that Satan is waging.  He is trying to make marriage all about sex.  And it just simply isn't about sex at all.

 

Peace

Tonight was the third session of our intro to yoga series.  We did some core work and a few warrior poses :)

My legs feel like jelly and I can tell my core is going to be sore.  But it feels good!  As I take inventory of my physical and emotional state I am reminded of an experience I had several years ago.

It was Christmas time and Rob Gardner was throwing together a Christmas concert.  Of course I was in.  We had a few practices and then it was time for the concert.  H-er was in full blown acting out mode.  So the day of the concert was a nightmare.  Leading up to it there were insults and objectification and I felt awful.  But I wasn't giving up this night of music.

We sang our choir pieces and I was waiting in the wings while the soloists performed.  And then it was time for O Holy Night.  As the soloist sang, accompanied by the full orchestra and harp, I swear I heard angels. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back as the tears streamed down my face.  I felt an overwhelming sense of peace and calm and love and I remember thinking that I was sheltered in the eye of the storm. 

All about me raged a fierce destructive hurricane of addiction and yet there in that moment I was insulated and protected and filled by a crescendo of joy that sent me soaring above the cacophony of my life. And I marveled. 

Tonight I feel that melody of peace and comfort quietly echoing around me.

Depressed

It's Saturday and there are no merit badge clinics, no football games, no family coming into town, no travel plans, no weddings to help decorate.  In short nothing that requires me to get out of bed.

So I don't.

By 1pm the boys come in periodically. "Mom get out of bed" and I answer "I will in a little while". A little while later is 5pm because while they are old enough to make their own cereal and their own sandwiches and even brownies, dinner is beyond them yet.

So I go through a drive thru and get an extra Styrofoam container because one of them needs it for art at school on Monday.

I plop it all down on the table and head back to my room--past the dirty dishes, messy rooms, dirty bathrooms, piles of laundry (I'll start a small load with just enough clothes for school and work for Monday sometime before midnight) and climb back in bed.  I put a pillow over my head and cry myself back to sleep.

I haven't had a day like this since after I found about about the last affair.  I didn't touch anything in my house for over a week (and still let my visiting teachers in because really why hide it? I've finally figured out the futility of secrets).

By Monday I'll be back to dragging myself out of bed and being a mom but for now dinner (such as it is) is all I'm capable of.  I know I'm failing my children today but I just can't do more today.

 

Triggered

Triggered.

I was saving that emotion for a humdinger.  Well I had my humdinger.

It happened because an heritage #2 didn't come home until 1:45 am. I couldn't reach her because her phone was dead.  The rule is she has to be home by midnight and she has to stay in touch.  

When she walked in I was sitting on the couch and all I did was ask her for the keys.  She immediately started in with explanations. I interrupted her and said I didn't want to hear them.  She knew the rule and I didn't want to hear any excuses.  I even childishly plugged my ears.  She proceeded to start to tell me a story.

And like that I was triggered.   A colossal wrestling match ensued as I informed her that she was out of the house since she couldn't follow the rules and I tried to take away her cell phone (that we pay for). 

She won the wrestling match (but not until she did some fancy wrestling tricks with her legs--ah to be a teenager and flexible) and then told me she was leaving and I'd never see her again.

I was absolutely in the wrong and out of control.  The trigger was the story.  I don't know how many times I've heard H-er come up with a story to justify his actions and addiction.  There's always an excuse, a justification, a story. Her attempt to tell me a story sent me careening wildly over the edge.  I went from calm and sane to crazy.  When you are crazy you can't think rationally.  That's why it's called crazy.

So now I'm left with the horrible aftermath of crazy.  It's ugly.  I didn't sleep at all stressing about where she was.  Feeling all the shame of being a horrible mother.  Of being out of control.  Of ruining our relationship. I can't stop crying.  I hate being blindsided by these triggers.  It was 2am.  I should have been safely asleep.  This is MY HOUSE. I don't want to be triggered in MY HOUSE.  This is supposed to be my safe place.

And the worst part is I know there are going to be more.  And I can't do a darn thing about them.  I can't prevent them.  I do not want this!!!!

Beautiful

I keep coming across Yoga. It is referenced everywhere in the blogs and articles on healing.  So in the back of my mind I could feel it calling to me.  I googled it in my area and found that in only two days a five session intro to yoga was starting.  Serendipity?

The first session we talked about breathing and the purpose of yoga and then began some basics.  We went around the room sharing what brought us there and what we hoped to gain from yoga.  I said serenity and healing.  The instructor warned us that at odd moments we might find ourselves flooded with emotion.

At one point my legs began to shake and the instructor talked about animals who have been in a threatening situation will start to shake once the threat is over. 

Sure enough at the very end as we went into bliss the emotion overwhelmed me.  It was so strong that I wanted to curl up in a ball and just sob.  But that would probably have interrupted everyone else's bliss so I did my best to keep my crying silent.

The second session went just as well.  New poses and a full sun salutation. We even tried a tree pose.  At one point as I lay on my front with my heart and cheek pressed down I felt grounded.  My heartbeat connected me to the earth and it's strength and I felt solid and immovable. I didn't sob this time during bliss but I was able to send out waves of gratitude to my children. 

Then as I came home and went to bed and lay there feeling a little stretched out and completely aware of my body but super relaxed, I came to a realization.

I am beautiful. Yoga makes me feel beautiful.

 

Invalidated

I decided to glance through the Strengthening Marriage Instructor’s manual on LDS tools under Family.   Session Four jumped right out at me:  Overcoming Anger. One of the topics was about determining your anger cycle and to help you do that they suggested keeping an anger log.  I decided to do it.  (super easy to do when you carry a smart phone around all day).  I just opened up a “note” and started keeping track.  I’d list the date, what happened and then I’d rate my anger from 1 to 10.

I did this for about two weeks and guess what.  I started noticing patterns.  I started seeing what was triggering my anger.  I started seeing patterns.  As an added bonus I was becoming more aware of myself.  My anger wasn’t “blind” anymore.  It wasn’t taking over me.  (at least not while I was keeping the log...time to start that again). 

One of my big triggers was invalidation.  For example:  I found an arrangement of a song that I particularly liked and I tried to share it with H-er.  His response was that he never liked that song to begin with.  At the time I felt a spike in anger.   I don’t think he did it on purpose.  I didn’t expect him to like the song per se.  What I did expect was for him to say something along the lines of “glad you found an arrangement that you like”.  I can look back on it now and realize he just isn’t capable of providing validation in a relationship.   It’s not personal.  It’s the addiction. 

As I recognized the patterns I was sparked to dig through some boxes in my garage and found my tattered copy of The Verbally Abusive Relationship by Patricia Evans.  I’d read it years ago when I was working on boundaries.  As I re-read it I could see all my notes in the margins with examples of H-er doing various things.  Interestingly enough he doesn’t do some of those anymore.  Because I have utilized the suggestions in the book (sometimes it’s nice to see how you’ve grown with boundaries).

HOWEVER

I soon noticed something else.  Knowledge is power.   In taking back some of my own by responding appropriately to his abuse I went too far.  I noticed that some of the things I have been doing count as verbal abuse.  It’s there in black and white.  I have to examine myself now to see if it was deliberate.  That’s kind of scary. Am I that person who once they understand a principle or tool can take it and use it to their advantage?  To deliberately hurt someone else just because now I know how?  I may be.  Whether it was sub-conscious or intentional that’s one of those things I’m going to have to make amends for. 

Like the time we went to dinner and he started talking about something he thought was interesting and I said “I’m not really interested in hearing you talk about that.” Because I was angry and feeling contempt for him and didn’t want to hear him talk.  I knew it would shut him down and would be hurtful.  I’m going to have to make amends for that.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  That’s step 8

I’ll be back for that.

Savage

I was reading This interesting article and the following paragraph jumped out at me. 

In short, on one level it's illogical that you'd verbally attack the person you're most devoted to. But on another, it's altogether logical that you might get angry to increase your emotional distance when their behavior (however subliminally) suggests their ability to hurt you.

My husband has abandoned me in EVERY way.  So now every time I perceive another possible abandonment I explode.  See example from my journaling about an incident this month:

 

“I put my heart in your hands and I go without love and I go without admiration and I go without respect and I go for so long and then I think well I have to get it from somewhere”. 

“if you had just been nice to me and treated me well I would have been faithful.   I know this because she treated me nice and I was faithful to her”

I cannot tell you how much these comments ENRAGE me. 

 

Wait, let me get this straight.  You were having sex with both me and your mistress yet you were being “faithful” to her?  Classic example of the complete and utter ridiculous logic of a sex addict. 

I find myself hitting the side of the building as hard as I can with a branch, punctuating each hate in  “I hate you for avoiding your financial responsibilities.   I hate you. I hate you. I hate you”. 

Why is this rage tearing out of me?  Because he stopped the automatic payment that comes monthly that is supposed to be mine to pay bills.  Because I served him.   He wasn’t sure what was going to happen so he stopped it.  And then he kept asking me if it came like he hadn't stopped it.  Once again he is trying to get out of his financial responsibility to his CHILDREN and to me. 

For years he has been underemployed and kept his money separate and I have to beg and argue and scream and plead for money.  He’ll run off to the casino for a weekend with his mistress and blow 1000 but he has to go over my budget with a fine tooth comb and try to justify not giving me money.  And now because I am divorcing him he thinks he doesn’t have to support his children?

He has a freaking Master’s Degree and I didn’t finish college.  The MAN is supposed to be the financial provider and the WOMAN is supposed to stay at home and raise and teach the children.  Instead I have left the home and abandoned my children and left them unprotected because I HAVE TO BE THE BREADWINNER.   I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM.

“I’ve never not met my financial responsibilities”  He says. 

He forgets that I was there when he tried to get out of paying his child support to his ex-wife.  When he complained.  When he said he wouldn’t contribute to his braces.  I was there when he said to ME “I’m not going to pay the house payment anymore” and we lost the house because I couldn’t afford it on my income alone.  I was there when he did inappropriate things that caused him to lose his employment.  I was there when I had to leave the home and get a job BECAUSE HE COULDN’T MEET HIS FINANCIAL RESPONSIBILITY OF SUPPORTING OUR FAMILY.   

“it’s all about the money.  You told me that was all you cared about”

Hell yeah.  It wasn’t about fidelity.  It wasn’t about shared commitment.  It wasn’t about loyalty.  It wasn’t about going to the temple.  It wasn’t about emotional or spiritual support.  It wasn’t about shared parenting.  NONE OF THAT WAS HAPPENING OR GOING TO HAPPEN.  The only part of our marriage left was the financial responsibility.   It was all I had left to hold on to.  I told myself “as long as he provides for us I can let ALL the rest go.  That’s reason enough to stay”. 

I lowered the bar, and lowered it, and lowered it, until it was barely above the ground.

Take the money away and there is NOTHING left. 

 

Now back to the article and the last paragraph: 

The end result of such unfortunate self-conditioning is that unless you're able to discover the true source of your dysfunctional behavior…you'll never be able to fully outgrow it.

So here’s to recognizing my dysfunctional attempts to protect myself from abandonment in any of its forms.   

 

 

Pricked

"The only reason you are hurt by someone else's actions is if you are only thinking about yourself."

I could feel my dander start to rise.   I wanted to be defensive.  Because I was thinking about myself.  I was proving his point and kicking against the pricks. So I stepped back emotionally.

My father and I were talking about love--more specifically charity and why it is necessary. "Except ye have charity ye can nowise be saved in the kingdom of God" Moroni 10:21.  And in Moroni 7:48 we learn that when the Savior comes if we are filled with charity we shall see Him as He really is, for "we shall be like him".   Isn't that what we are striving for?   To be like Him?

My dad continues, "When we don't accept the Savior it doesn't hurt His feelings.  That would imply He is focused on Himself. Instead He is so focused on us and loving and helping us that He is not hurt. "

You know that whole "guilty taketh the truth to be hard" concept?  See I know that in those times that I am thinking only about H-er and what he has suffered, I feel compassion and empathy for him and I don't hurt.   When I focus on what I have suffered--well there goes my compassion and empathy and here comes my pain.

Flashback to high school and a girl who got on every one of my nerves.  Everything about her irritated and annoyed me.  I asked a Sunday School teacher how I could get over this.  Their advice was to pray for her.  So I did.  And it only took about a week but she no longer annoyed or irritated me.  I had stopped focusing on ME and was focused on her. 

Unfortunately I am all too human and subject to the natural man.  I fail at this more often than not.  I'm too focused on my suffering. But if I can make the gap between my pain shrink each time--that is a victory.  Baby steps towards victory.

*note:  this does not mean staying and turning a blind eye to abuse.  Mary and Joseph fled to Egypt, Moses was placed in a reed basket, and as an adult the mob sought to take Jesus "but he passing through the midst of them went his way". (Luke 4:30) It is absolutely ok to leave a dangerous situation.

 

 

Valued

I’ve discussed with my counselor that I am addicted to the relationship with H-er.  How do I know this?  Last night I typed all of this out instead of calling H-er. (I’m posting it in its rawness with typos and everything)

I haven't heard from him since Thursday.  Well he texted briefly during the game and Saturday might he called. I answered his few questions in monosyllables and when he said he was going to look at airfare I asked where he was going to stay. He said "I thought we were going to work in things". I said "no" so he said ok goodbye.

I haven't heard from him since.  It's officially been 48 hours. 
That only happens when he's at a casino or with another woman. 
So of course I broke down and called m who said he's been home all weekend. 
But the co-dependency is nipping at my heels.  I'm basically white knuckling it.  I could legitimately call him to chew him out for not calling on his sons birthday.  But I know that would be a cop out excuse. 
I reread my journal from when we were dating and I was guilty of taking his calls and returning them. 
It's been a peaceful few days.  No more pacing the halls at work or scraping my throat raw in anger.
So I have to stay firm.  I can't give into the co-dependency.  If it's over then it's over.  This is my future.  It's none of my business where he is or who he is with.

Let it go...

One of the signs of being a love addict or in an addictive relationship is that you panic and start reaching out because you are triggered by being alone, feeling unlovable.  I can read between the lines there and see the panic and the need for a fix. (the fix being any connection--even if it’s negative with H-er).  I have to learn what love looks like.  I found this tip: "real love doesn’t hurt. Real love makes you feel valued, cared for and stronger about yourself. Perhaps you don’t recognize real love, or it feels uncomfortable. That doesn’t mean it’s wrong, just unfamiliar. Back away from pain and give yourself a chance to heal and learn how to identify real love."

So when I look back over the last 72 hours I do have an example.  You see my dad came to visit.  And while he was here he woke up every morning at the same time I did.  When I said I needed to clean out my garage he came out and helped me move boxes around and throw things away.  He helped me do the dishes multiple times.  He took his turn saying family prayer and prayed for each of us.  On Sunday he was the first one ready for church and after church he called a family council and bore his testimony.  He talked with my troubled teenager and told her that she was special and loved.  He pointed out some of my good qualities.  And Monday he waited to leave until everyone had gotten off to school so that he could give them one last goodbye hug even though that put him in rush hour traffic.  He left me feeling valued, cared for, and stronger about myself. 

Insecure

There are times when I mentally curl up into a ball of insecurity.  What if as I uncover my emotions and reveal the real me I find that I am just an insecure little girl with low self-esteem?  What then?

 

Co-dependent

It's 1am and she casually strolls in after taking our car all day wearing short shorts and a non existent top.  She heads over to the refrigerator to see what she can scrounge up. 

I'm in over my head.  I don't know where she's been or who she's been with.  She doesn't believe in the gospel anymore.  She tried to kill herself. She doesn't have a job.  She's comfortable flaunting her body.  She wants boys to like her.

All I want is to keep her safe and for her to be happy and successful.  I don't want her making the same mistakes I made.  I don't want her following in my footsteps.  I remember after I met H-er I went out rollerblading in my short shorts.  It's all too familiar.  I feel powerless.

Any attempt to set boundaries is going to backfire.  I can already hear her say I'm "controlling." That she'll "turn out that way because I believe she will", and that I "can't ever let things go just like with dad".  She might throw in that she'll just leave and won't ever come back and I'll never see her again.

As I type all of that I hear the manipulation and the narcissism and the selfishness.  And I realize I cannot switch my co-dependency to her.

I have to set some boundaries.  Curfew.  Communication. Employment. Contribution. Church attendance.   She will protest.  She'll probably even move out.  She may stop speaking to me and I may not see her for a while. She may end up pregnant.  She may even end up smoking, drinking, on drugs, and possibly even dead.

The first step:  I am powerless.  I cannot control or save her.  She has agency and will use it to make the wrong choices sometimes.  Embrace the powerlessness. It's okay.

I can't jeopardize my goal of serenity with a co-dependent relationship with her.  I will break these chains of co-dependency.

Serenity now!!!

 

Helpless

It's been a while since I've had a nightmare like that.  

I used to have them all the time.  H-er would be in a car accident and be paralyzed and I'd find out he was in another relationship.  There would be a power struggle between me and the other woman.  Who would get to take care of him?  Who would he choose?  The emotion was always real even if the dream wasn't.

I hated the ones where I was helpless.  Where I would try to hit my attacker or H-er and I just couldn't get any power behind my punches.  I'd put every ounce of concentration and effort into a punch it would be as if my arm was made of a feather.  How can a feather pack a punch?  How can I defend myself?  How can I make him feel my pain?  I can't.

I hate the terror.  Where I am frozen in fear and if I could just scream I could move.  The scream would break my paralysis and I would be able to wake up.  It's as if I am aware that I am asleep and if I could just bring myself to full consciousness then I would be safe.  So I gather all my energy and prepare to release an ear piercing shriek.   It is an entire body effort and I break into wakefulness with the merest moan.  So much for the banshee wail...

Last night I experienced the helplessness.  In my dream I wanted to order shots of alcohol. But the bartender kept messing up my order (too few, wrong sizes, wrong alcohol).  I didn't even know if my guests were still at the table.  I'd been gone for an hour trying to get drinks.  My frustration and frantic helplessness grew. In a final act of desperation I tried to grab the tequila to just do it myself and the waiter ended up pouring it all down the front of me.  In the end I failed. 

As I drove home in despair I was pulled over and forced to do a field sobriety test (passed) and breathalyzer (passed) but before I could be vindicated the building behind me blew up.  Of course the officer released me because the building took precedence. 

The knock on my door reveals the same officer coming to tell me that my husband is deceased.  He'd blown up in the building.  The coincidence dawned on the officer and like a fool the first words out of my mouth are "did you identify the woman he was with". Of course the officer never said there were any other victims.  Only a guilty person or person involved would know he'd been with someone else and that it had been a woman. (It was J-his current mistress).   Any explanation that he was a chronic cheater only confirms my motive.

I don't know why I had a nightmare like this after so long.

I do know that I feel a bit of a power struggle with J.  I make certain posts public so that even though we aren't friends she can see them.  And she periodically posts a different picture of H-er and her together with arms around each other.  It's public so I can see.  I want her to see pictures of me and feel insecure.  I want her to compare and feel less intelligent, less successful, older, fatter, uglier, less interesting, less serene.

Because then I feel less helpless?

 

Alone

I am okay being alone. 

In Lincoln I was invited to participate in a group outside of 12 step that focused on healing. 

One of the exercises we were supposed to do was practice feeling. If we were sad we were supposed to allow ourselves to feel sad for five minutes.  And then ten minutes.

After a while we would see that it was okay to feel that way.  We survived.  Sadness, anger, loneliness--all these feelings we kept avoiding because they were painful--we didn't need to fear them.  We could be in them and we would be okay. 

So I say it now. 

It's okay to be alone.

Now I'm just going to sit for a while and feel it.  Just to show that it's okay. I won't die.

 

Desperate

Co-dependent.

I'm needing a fix.  I'm starting to experience the beginning of withdrawal.  This is where I start white knuckling it. 

I haven't talked to H-er since a brief conversation this morning. 

I haven't had the rush of knowing I'm in control.  That I have the upper hand.  He is the one in a place of desperation.  Begging me not to leave.  Searching for ways to make me stay.  Looking for ways to contort and conform.

All those years I felt desperate.  I was frantic to find some way to hold him.  I had to do something to keep his interest. 

I forgave him and allowed him to return. I went online to find a way to connect by getting information about Star Wars and toys.  I shamed him.  I watched porn with him.  I joined him in debauchery with the Bs as we danced and drank and strip clubbed through Vegas. I followed him to Lincoln where I dragged him to 12 step and threatened and coerced him to come home from school.  Then followed him again to Arizona where I threw counseling at him.  I pushed him away and leveled ultimatums and picked up the pieces and marched him back home.  And finally I filed for divorce.

Is this my ultimate desperate act?

"They are unselfish, virtuous, martyr-like, faithful, and turn the other cheek despite personal humiliation."  How many times has my counselor said I have put up with more than any other person she has ever known. 

"their primary role is that of rescuer, supporter, and confidante." He said to me that he needs me to save him.

"subordinating one's own needs to those of the person with whom one is involved,"  year after year.

I am okay being alone.