Gratitude

I thought I was done.  But apparently, I’m not.  I need to share this beautiful time in my life.

In my first post of this blog I shared that I went to my bishop for help because I hated men.  While the post referenced this being a problem because God is a man, I didn’t mention the real reason I went to the Bishop about this.  You see, I have two sons--and one day they will be men.  You can see the problem there right?

As a child I used to sing a song that went like this:

“When I grow up I want to be a mother
And have a family
One little, two little, three little babies of my own”

I couldn't wait to be a mother and love my children.  Now, the idea that I could hate my sons was horrifying to me.  It went against EVERYTHING I was as a woman.

For the last two weeks I’ve been reeling with grief (mostly I’ve been wrestling with the grief associated with not being able to save my marriage – feelings are feelings no matter how irrational they are).  Both of my boys have noticed my lower spirits and finally An Heritage #3 asked me if I needed a hug.  As my 6’2 son enfolded me in his arms and comforted me, I started sobbing. 

A few days later, the bishop stopped by to release An Heritage #3 as the Teacher’s Quorum President and asked him what he had learned.   I listened to this 16-year-old share that while he had been given authority that didn’t mean he was more important or that he could look down on anyone else and that not only was each boy an important part of the quorum, they needed to FEEL important.

An Heritage #4 casually mentioned he was meeting with the bishop and afterwards I asked how it went.  “I asked him how I could get past the anger I feel towards Dad.”  And a few days later when he finished the Book of Mormon (cover to cover) he decided not to take the reward of a cell phone with data because it wasn’t worth the risks. 

It just makes my heart burst with joy (I’m a complete mess between the tears of grief and the tears of joy these days).   I like my boys.  I can’t wait to see them as men (flaws and all).

Healing

The other day H-er called to talk and he asked me how An Heritage #4 was doing. Unfortunately, he is still failing some of his classes (refuses to do any school work) and I sensed H-er’s frustration. It made me a little defensive as he listed ways that I could get our son to get his grades up.  

I recognized however that he wasn’t criticizing me. He truly just wants our son to succeed. I mentioned my tiredness at the end of the day because of my busy season at work and how it left no energy to really enforce anything. He immediately set his frustration aside and validated me. The conversation went on. 

The next day when I woke up, I felt it was important to acknowledge what had happened. I sent him the following text:

I wanted to point out something I noticed (and appreciated) during our conversation about #4 yesterday.  

I could sense your frustration with the situation and yet you checked yourself and tried to validate my hard week. That was a lovely example of emotional maturity and I truly appreciate it. Thanks!

He responded with 

Thank you... your positivity means a lot and sometimes it is what gets me through the day. You are a beautiful woman. 

And I knew he didn’t mean physically. 

Over the last year he has repeatedly apologized to me for his behavior and treatment of me during our marriage. And when we see each other or talk to each other he is respectful and kind.  I felt impressed to change my story for the third time. 

Getting divorced was truly the best thing that could ever happen for our relationship. And as I have healed I find it easier to be kind and empathetic with him. 

I stumbled across an old notebook where I had detailed some of the more painful episodes including some of the physical and verbal abuse.  As I read, I felt sorrow and grief for the situation, particularly for him because I could see the pain he was in from acting out in addiction, but I felt no anger.  I could also see his growth, at least in his relationship with me. I hope that he continues to grow and it spills over into all of his relationships.

I am feeling that this blog is coming to a close.  I’ll leave it up because I remember reading other blogs and finding solace, recognition, validation, and hope and if even one person finds any of those in my posts it is worth it. So I’ll just close with this…..Because of the Savior’s Grace I have experienced healing and my bitterness is now made sweet. What a wonderful gift!!! 

Faithful

A few weeks ago, our Stake had a meeting for the youth and parents of prospective missionaries.  They sent the youth off to another room and kept the parents together.  We discussed the difficulties that missionaries are having and how many are being sent home.   Towards the end, I could barely keep my emotions in check.  I ended up crying myself to sleep.  It was not a hopeful meeting for me.

I think that might be one of the hardest things about being a parent.  I have hopes and dreams for my children and realizing that my imagined path for them might not be the same as God’s path, is kind of painful.

My path wasn’t what I imagined either, but I am truly a better person for my experiences.  And so I have to hold on to the faith that God is in charge, and in the end, my children will be grateful for their own trials and growth. 

Lonely

My boys have been in another state for summer visitation with their Dad since the beginning of the month.  I’ve been trying to stay busy.  I signed up for that dance class I’ve always wanted to take.  I went to the gym with my daughter and she signed me up for a two-week free pass so I’ve headed over there every day.  I went to visit an older sister in the ward.  I helped someone move. I went to brunch with another sister in the ward.   I dragged another sister who is in the same boat as I (kids out of state for visitation) out to the movies.  I’ve worked extra hours.  I’ve looked for opportunities to serve so that I’m not stuck in my mind. 

But still last night as I was getting ready for bed in my empty house,  I was hit by a wave of loneliness.  

Loneliness sucks.

Envious

I confess I succumbed to envy yesterday.  My friends were talking about the wonderful things their husband do and when they get together as couples and other fun married stuff.  I felt left out.  I wanted what they had!

Then I chided myself for being envious and ungrateful--because I could have been born in the dark ages.  You know--when women didn’t have any rights, couldn’t read, labored day and night to survive—and that was if they even survived.  1/3 if children didn’t make it past 5 years old.

I'M ALIVE!!

And not only that:  I’M LIVING!!!

I have experienced so much. I have children.  My children are experiencing life and I get to be part of their experience. 

I’ve TRAVELED and seen some beautiful sights.  I WENT ON A CRUISE.   I stood in a small unpopulated Island in the Caribbean as the sun set. I’ve been to Hawaii, England, Wales, South Padre, Puerto Vallarta, Rocky Point, Southern France, the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, the Black Forest, the Rhine and its castles, Blenheim Palace, Versailles, the Verdun Gorge, Pompeii, the sea caves on the coast of Portugal, Seville, Barcelona, Cinque Terre, Florence, the Amalfi Coast, Venice, Iceland.  And I’m only 44!!!  The life expectancy for women in the dark ages was 43.6.  I’m just getting started!

I mean come on!!!   I have seen natural beauty and architectural wonders. 

Instead of comparing myself to those around me and thinking I am missing out, I should compare the wonders and blessings I get to experience with the dark ages. I can take a HOT SHOWER.  I have clean water and food and vaccinations and THE INTERNET.  I can go to the dentist. I have access to antibiotics.  I have CONTACTS and can see!  I sing in choirs and play musical instruments and read whatever I want.  I have been to operas and Broadway productions.   I have access to so much knowledge--Including the GOSPEL and all its ordinances and blessings.

I just need the right perspective.   My life is FULL beyond belief. 

Concerned

June 2016 I gave up romance novels.

I wrote a post about it sharing how I was inspired to "bury" my habit by the anti-Nephi-Lehies who buried their weapons of war.

Well I haven't read one since.

Oh there have been times I have wanted to.   It was pretty easy to resist though with a simple NO. Lately the urge has been strong.

This means I am feeling the need to medicate something painful.

So I had better figure out what it is, face it, and work through it. Because digging that habit up again would make an awful mess.

Slandered

I just love it when H-er’s lovers feel the need to message me.

Backstory:

He was seeing two women at once and lying to each of them about it.  They found out about each other.  They started talking.  They decided I needed to know about this even though it all happened after our divorce.

Normally I would just ignore it (while shuddering and thinking “I’m just glad it’s not happening to me anymore”).  But they felt the need to tell me all of the things H-er said about me to them.  I don’t know if they are hoping I will join their anger party or if they just want to make me feel bad because it will somehow make them feel better.  Maybe they think I will lash out at H-er and make him miserable so they get to make him miserable vicariously?

But part of their messages included telling me that they knew "all my dirty little secrets".

He went all the way back to 1998 with a little story (and added a twist so that I look horribly evil).

Or about how I was fired from my job at the bank because I stole from them.  Except I didn’t.  It’s a nice spin on the time that I forgot to hit “enter” on a deposit and then at the end of the day when I counted my drawer we spent forever trying to find out where the extra money was supposed to go.

Or the blatant lie:  “you were unwilling to make any accommodations for marriage therapy – just flat out said No, I won’t do it.”  Man, I wish I had all that money back.  Except not really, because I got a lot out of those sessions.

There’s more though.  About my parenting decisions, behavior during the divorce, and that I forced him to do things to assuage my guilt.  I’m not perfect.  There are enough grains of truth in it that it stings a little. The truths are all twisted in just such a way though that I’m feeling quite slandered.

Slander synonyms:

defame (someone's character), blacken someone's name, tell lies about, speak ill/evil of, sully someone's reputation, libel, smear, cast aspersions on, spread scandal about, besmirch, tarnish, taint

Yeah, that’s how I feel.  And it’s okay.  I don’t have to lash out at anyone in anger to protect myself.  I’ll survive it.  

Objectifed

TRIGGER WARNING

My son started the following conversation in the car this last week:

“Who is the best rapper ever?”
None of us actually really care for rap so it was kind of a benign question.  Or so I thought.

Eminem was discussed. 

Yes.  I personally think he is pretty talented.  He makes words rhyme that shouldn’t rhyme.  And some of his stuff is pretty catchy.  But his lyrics are awful.  And the way he portrays women – particularly his ex wife and his mother are pretty horrible as well.  I mentioned this and of course my son wanted examples because his only exposure is “mom’s spaghetti” which has made the rounds as a meme.  (from Lose Yourself – which is actually a pretty tame song for him all things considered especially if you are listening to the radio edit).  So I needed him to understand that talent doesn’t excuse objectification of women.

There were two songs that I googled the lyrics to and had him review.  One was about his ex-wife and details how he and his daughter are in a car driving to dispose of her body after he killed her.  The other was a collaboration with another artist about their visits to strip clubs where they egg the women on.  (a truly disgusting song).   

I failed.  He made comments like: why is Eminem at fault when the strippers are the one’s doing it for money? It’s not like they are forced to be strippers.  They should just get a different job.  They are just doing their job.

It was a total failure and it ended with me in my room crying because I remembered when my husband used to tell me I had to have sex with him.  “Just do your job you ***** ****” he would say.

 

And my son is still clueless about the objectification of women in music.