Disbelief

He offered me $5,000 to have sex with him.

I said no.

A few days later he offered me $10,000.

I said no.

He wanted to know why not.

I told him I wouldn't have sex with him while he was having sex with other women.

He said "It's only one woman and if you would just commit to me I would break it off with her."

I'm so glad I said no.

Cold

Shock

I can't stop shaking and I can't get warm. 

This is what happens to me when I discover anything new about H-er.

H-er accidentally sent me an email from one of his former lovers (instead of the insurance card) proving he is still in contact with her.  I called his second cell phone that he supposedly sold and he answered.   And then the next day his current mistress posted pictures showing that they are still together. 

But I am okay.  Because I required him to stay somewhere else for his visits for the holidays (though he is welcome at the house during the days).  I maintained my boundaries regarding intimacy. I reached out rather than isolating and shared my feelings.   And I faced the hurt and betrayal rather than hiding behind anger. 

But I still felt the physical shock of it.  I still had to put on two pairs of socks, my sweats, a robe, and shiver under two blankets for 30 minutes before I got warm. 

Devastated

My sons are handling the divorce very differently.  An Heritage #3 plays a lot of video games.  But he is not isolating himself.  He plays online games with his friends from school.  He is working hard in school and succeeding (100% and 99% on his finals so far).  He’s the one who came into my room early Sunday morning to wake us up for church (I can’t stand 8am church).  He pops out of bed every morning and showers daily.  Whatever emotional struggles he is having with it just aren’t visible.

Then there is An Heritage #4.  He isolates.  He doesn’t want to get up in the morning or shower.  He gets in fights with his friends.  He is disrespectful to teachers.  He gets in fights at school.  He’s suspended from the bus now.  And he’s failed his last two math tests.  Last night he cried himself to sleep.  He doesn’t want to have to spend any time with his dad because he thinks he is a jerk.  He makes comments like “kids have no rights” because he doesn’t like that a judge gets to decide how often he sees his dad. 

I stayed married to H-er because I had hoped to minimize the impact of addiction on my kids. 

I’m realizing now that it was always a no win situation.  Sure, I limited their exposure to scary people and situations because I had them with me all the time.  But they witnesses emotional and physical abuse and that’s another form of trauma.

My kids are messed up now.  That makes me sad because I contributed to it with my poor boundaries.  I’m owning my part.  It’s painful.    

Aware

Relapse.

One thing I’ve come across as I’ve read about recovery is that relapse is inevitable.  I think this is the single thing driving my decision to divorce H-er.  Say he does seriously start to work a 12 step program and gains sobriety even for a short time.  I can’t bear to go through the inescapable relapse.  It fills me with terror.   I’ve survived all these years because I went numb.   I’ve discussed this with my therapist.  I can turn the emotion off.  I become numb and I’ve gotten very good at it.   It allows me to function.  But I lose that protection as I work my own program.   I believe I can’t survive a relapse if I have to actually feel it.   

But there are two parts to relapse.  There is the addict who relapses and then there is the co-addict who relapses too.   That’s me.  I hate being a co-addict.  I hate looking at this list of 37 symptoms and being able to say I am currently doing a lot of them.  That means it’s time for a meeting and some self-care.    I can do that at least.  It’s a step in the right direction.

http://www.tlctx.com/ar_pages/family_involvement.htm

 

 

Successful

I’ve been writing down a lot of the negatives and feel like I should focus on a positive for once.  As I discussed failure with my therapist she pointed out one of my successes.   It was when we were discussing my children and the fallout they would have from living with an addict.  I could clearly see the trauma behavior in my 18 year old and my 11 year old but my 13 year old has seemed to mellow out and jokes and laughs and seems to have avoided it so far.  But it has to be there.   And I finally saw a glimpse of it.

He has a piano recital coming up and his teacher mentioned she could tell the boys hadn’t been practicing.  So I decided to help.  He started playing and he was trying to play the whole thing through from beginning to end, over and over, and struggling.  So I stopped him and suggested he just play the first two measures and once he could play those three times without messing up he could move on to the next two measures.  This progressed for a while.  My goal was to have him only work on the first two lines and then he could work on the last two the next day (unfortunately I didn’t share my plan with him).    He was doing pretty well and getting better. 

Until the last two measures.  He messed up a couple of times and I went over to see if I could help him and offer some encouraging words.  He stood up, pushed me out of the way, yelled “leave me alone” and ran up the stairs.   Where was my unflappable laughing 13 year old?  I didn’t immediately chase him.  I waited about 5 minutes and then went in search of him.   He was hiding in my closet and was teary eyed.  I stood away from the closet giving him the opportunity to hide his face (I think he was embarrassed to be crying) and talked to him in a quiet voice.  I explained what my plan was and that by encouraging him to keep playing I hadn’t meant to imply that he was failing.  I told him I was trying to teach him how to break down a piece into more manageable parts that wouldn’t be so overwhelming and that I was pleased with the progress he had made and that I didn’t want him to feel like a failure because I didn’t think he was.   And then I walked away. 

He came down about ten minutes later and continued to practice until he got to the end of the first three lines.  I gave him a hug and told him I was proud of him for not giving up when he got frustrated and discouraged. 

I didn’t fail.  I gave him space, I didn’t get mad, I didn’t try to shame him, I recognized his emotions,  I explained my intentions to him, and then I let him make his own decisions about his behavior and gave him positive reinforcement and love.

(And I’m going to keep an eye out for those times he feels like a failure or shame.   Those are the scary emotions that I don’t want him internalizing). 

 

 

 

Suicidal?

There is life after death.  I was going to say I know this but decided I’d change it to I have no doubt about it.  (I’ve had too many people argue that you can’t really know something because knowledge is just a remembered chemical response to stimuli – the dangers of belonging to a philosophy group I guess.  They aren’t interested in my comments about the Holy Ghost.)  But the point is, not doubting that there is life after death means I have never been suicidal.  At least not in the traditional sense.

Because I have no doubt that death is not an escape.  “for that same spirit which doth possess your bodies at the time that ye go out of this life, that same spirit will have power to possess your body in that eternal world." (Alma 34:33-34)  So somewhere in the back of my mind suicide is just not an option because I logically know it won’t actually solve anything.  It would actually make it worse.  (and I’m all for taking the path of least resistance). 

HOWEVER, at one point I felt so horrible and miserable and was in so much emotional pain that I remember crying in my bed at night and begging God that if there was any way I could cease to exist to please make it happen.  Not physical death.  It would have to go beyond that because the spirit would remain.  I needed my spirit-my very soul-to cease to exist.   I was still functioning at this time, I just cried the whole time.  I’d sit at work and interview people and cry while I did it. I eventually got through that ugly time (with some temporary help from an anti-depressant which stopped the crying).

Fast forward a few years and my mentality had again changed.  My mom died at 50 and I had come to the conclusion that 50 would be a good time to die.  My youngest would be 18 thus able to work full time and support himself.  I would have officially fulfilled my “duty” as a mother to educate, provide for, and raise my children.  At that point I didn’t really care to live longer.  (Again, I wouldn’t actively take my life but I wouldn’t fight death if it came.  I’d consider it a relief).  It was more of a “lost my will to live” like you hear about the babies in the orphanage who turn their face to the wall and die.   At the time H-er had just gone over my budget with a fine tooth comb and was pressuring me to sign up for a 401K and IRA because I needed to consider the future (every dollar of my paycheck was going to support the family and he was providing nothing) and so I told him straight out I didn’t care to prepare to live to 80 because I hoped I’d die at 50.

But then I thought I might have breast cancer and it freaked me out because I realized I didn’t really want to die.  I’m not really looking forward to the rest of my life but I definitely know I don’t want to die yet. 

So where am I going with all this rambling?

 

 

 

I’m lonely. 

 

 

 

I had to spew all those words out just to get to the two words under it.

So I’m going to sit and cry with my loneliness for a little while just to prove that it’s okay.   It’s not going to kill me--which is a good thing because I’m really not ready to die. 

 

 

 

 

Begrudging

My dad always includes a short little message (words of advice) at the end of his weekly letter.  This week it was a reference to D&C 64:8-11.

For those of you who attended seminary you’ll recognize “I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men.”

I’m really having a hard time with this lately. 

I remember years ago traveling to visit my grandmother in Dallas and sitting in Relief Society.  The lesson was on forgiveness and one of the sisters shared that she couldn’t forgive her father for his abuse and wouldn’t be able to until she stopped hurting from it.  At the time I thought “that’s backwards.  You forgive first and then it will stop hurting.”

H-er’s betrayals and behaviors and patterns hurt.   Whenever I am confronted with a memory or a trigger or a reminder I feel that pain again.  And I get angry.   Because anger protects me from pain. 

So where DOES forgiveness fit in all this?   Because I don’t think feeling pain is a symptom of not forgiving. 

However, in the back of my mind when he asks for another chance and says that if I can hang in there it will be worth it (eternal perspective and all that), I have thoughts like:  “why should you get me in the end as if I’m some reward? How is that fair?”.  And that smacks of discounting the atonement.  It doesn’t sound very forgiving. 

It’s the prodigal son kind of thing.   He’s run through his inheritance and ended up eating and sleeping with the pigs and now wants to come home to the feast.  And I’m sitting there thinking how unfair it is that he gets to sleep with a bunch of other women and now that his “libido has slowed down” and he’s “grown up a lot and learned from the past” so he’s done sowing his wild oats and ready to settle down, he can still have his cake and eat it too.  Quotes are his words. 

(Do I get points for throwing in lots of idioms?)

In other words: I use the word “gets” (in he gets to sleep with other women) as if he’s either getting away with something or the rest of us are getting gypped.   He points this out and says it’s not a better thing.  It’s not even a good thing.  One of his friends said that to him as well.  That it’s not fair that he gets to do all this but if he repents he gets the Celestial Kingdom just as his friend does who was faithful to his wife the whole time.   The “gets” implies the rest of us are missing out on something.  And I don’t want to go sleep with a bunch of men.  Really.  So I see the flaw in the “gets” but I don’t know how to stop feeling it. 

So this has to go on my inventory.  I just don’t know how to define it really.

Envy?

Resentful?
Begrudging?

 

Dispirited

In that small box I found a poem I’d written (before 2003).  It made me sad.

It really put in perspective just how long I have been co-existing with all these feelings.
 
Just play it smart
Hold back a little
Keep your cards close
Damn, you force my hand
I have to play it or lose
I lost anyways

Okay, next hand.

I’ll just be patient
My luck will have to turn
I see my chance
I play my cards
I don’t hold any back
I discard left--then right
After taking what he needs I find I have nothing left
And there’s nothing I can pick up
I’ve lost again

I finally have a winning hand

There’s no way I can lose
I wager everything I’ve got
I’ll be set for life
Who cares about a poker face
Just let me play my hand
I laugh and set my cards down
And the world seems to slow
One by one he shows his cards
The blood drains from my face

He beats my hand

I’ve lost it all
I don’t even remember how it happened

 

Deja Vu

H-er found a small box that contained some pictures, letters, and cards as well as a book that had been ripped into three pieces and taped back together (this was back when I thought our problems were communication or a clash in personality style and that the answers were in a book – you know, 5 Love Languages, His Needs, Her Needs, The Four Temperaments and when I broached the subject with H-er he grabbed the book and ripped it in three and threw it across the room). I’d packed these all up before our move to Nebraska at the beginning of 2003 and somehow it had gotten mixed in with all of his toys and moved to Utah in the Great Toy Exodus.  So I reclaimed it at Thanksgiving and took a trip down memory lane.  I wish they were dated (note to self:  date everything from now on).   There was an anniversary card from H-er that said “I will do whatever it takes” and a promise to take me to the temple if I’d be patient. There was another card that said “I want an Eternal Marriage -  and I will do whatever it takes.”   This time whatever was underlined. 

 
That night after reading it all H-er asked if we could go for a drive and talk.  Guess what he said…

“I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Sad

Here’s my Thanksgiving report: 

The drama was kept to a minimum this year for which I’m grateful.

Dinner was over an hour late which caused some grief for one of my sister in laws.  She had planned to leave at a certain time for some Black Friday shopping and so was now going to miss dinner.  She complained to my mother in law that everything wasn’t organized very well and they shared some heated words.  But then her 17 year old daughter walked in and said “I thought you were leaving soon.” In a perfectly pleasant voice and her mom turned on her.  She got an inch away from her face, pointed her finger at her and yelled “don’t effing embarrass me in front of my family!”   My niece ran out of the house.  15 minutes later they all came back in and went into a back room and her mom and older sister laid into her about her attitude.  She spent the rest of the night in the room crying.    And I felt sad for everyone.

Why do I share this?

Because as I watched it unfold I realized what was happening.  My sister in law didn’t know how to handle whatever feelings she was having (disappointment, hurt, etc.) because she was going to miss dinner and it came out as anger towards her daughter who happened to be in the wrong place and said something at the wrong time.  But then, it continued.  Instead of recognizing any of her feelings or actions she continued in anger and brought in reinforcements (she probably felt bad and anger kept her going so she didn’t have to face those uncomfortable feelings).* 

This situation just reinforced in my mind how destructive anger is.  When I get angry I HAVE to stop myself and tell myself it’s okay to face whatever painful emotion I’m hiding from.  And then I have to face it.  If I don’t I will hurt those who don’t deserve it.  I’ll hurt those that need my love and kindness the most:  My children.  Because they are the ones who are going to innocently walk into the middle of my anger. 

 

 

 

 

*I'm not a mind-reader so this is my best guess at what was going on under the anger.  I could be totally wrong.

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.