Tears are Not Enough

Last night was tough.

And not just tough because Little Mr. wasn’t at my house.  He had spent the day, and we had a lot of fun together.  It was tough because I always seem to push my time to the limit, and that was always a bone of contention for my former spouse.  My step-daughter was playing soccer, and from there Little Mr. was going to his father’s house.

I do feel that being on-time or even early is important, and I strive for that in all things.  The difference for me is that I do not see the point of being 30 minutes early when 5 will do.  My former spouse always saw the need to be places ridiculously early, so that he doesn’t miss anything, and he was often in judgement of my lack of need to be somewhere so early that I stand around aimlessly, especially if there was something else I could be doing.  So, if I’m attending a match for which I do not have to transport a player, five minutes early is just fine.  So, my goal was to be at the pitch for 6:25 for a 6:30 game.

This was the plan.

Sometimes, however, I forget that Little Mr. is almost 6 and really runs on his own sense of time.  In addition, I think we were both hanging onto that last bit of time before he was back at daddy’s house.

All of a sudden, I was in a panic; we needed to leave, and it needed to be now.  And, in typical six-year-old fashion, Little Mr. didn’t get it.  If we didn’t leave right now, we would not be ten minutes early.  If we didn’t leave right now, Little Mr’s dad would be yet again judging me for my lack of ability to do much of anything useful.   And just like that, the monster attacked.

My house was overcome by a screaming banshee.  By the time we got into the car, both of us were in tears.  I spent the entire drive apologizing, and attempting to snuggle my son from the front seat.  I felt like a total failure; no, in my mind, I was, at that moment, a total failure.  I wasn’t going to get to snuggle my son before bed, he was going to daddy’s.  I had absolutely no opportunity to make this up to him, except now, in the car, on the drive to soccer, which was totally inadequate.

We made it to soccer; we made it five minutes early.  My panic and my outburst were completely unwarranted.  We watched the game; our team won.

I helped Little Mr. get into daddy’s car, and hugged him and kissed him and said goodnight.

On my way home, I burst into tears again.  I was devastated by my behaviour.   I felt like the worst mother in the entire world.  Why was this?

I realized that the conversation would have been entirely different had we not been going to an event where his dad was going to be.  I would have been insistent, sure, perhaps even had to raise my voice a little, but the monster, that screaming banshee would not have emerged.  For some reason, whenever daddy is involved, I become far more stressed.  And, why is this?

Apparently, I still cower somewhat at his judgment.  This stands to reason – I have been judged by him for over 15 years, and even though I am breaking free, there are still ties.  Unless I conform to his sense of what is right and what is wrong, he sits in judgement, and I still have this bizarre, yet deep-seeded desire to be the perfect woman (that one that I never was in the first place!)

I am distressed that he still has this hold over me; that he has this ability to make me cower at his opinion of me.  And, now I’m torn with this information.  If I plan to leave earlier so that I arrive earlier, part of me thinks I’m selling out to his way of thinking, but descending to the abyss of the banshee is worse.  The alternative is that I completely stop caring about what he thinks…. which is easier said than done!

I need to be able to be what my son needs.  In this case, my tears were not enough.  My tears are not enough.  I must change my actions so that the stress of interacting with the dad does not overcome me and get taken out on my child.  I must realize, too, that if I am to make a change in my behaviour, it needs to be my choice, and my former spouse’s opinion of me or my actions is unimportant.  Tears are enough if they lead to change, if they lead to catharsis.  Tears can change the world if we learn from them!

The Blame Game

“It’s your fault.”

Yes, I know, it’s my fault.

Now, before you go telling me that it’s not my fault, I do already know that.  You are telling me this, and you don’t even know what is my fault!

As I have said before, one of my unhealthy default positions was (and sometimes still is) to accept responsibility for things not of my doing.  In fact, I would not only to accept the responsibility, but I would own it, and blame myself.

This has happened many, many times over the course of my marriage.  The first major time, however, was surrounding the affair that my husband had with my friend.  When I discovered this affair, I was, of course, angry and hurt.  More than that, however, I was to blame.

I know that sound ludicrous; it sounds completely unreasonable.

So, how did my twisted little brain get me there?

Truthfully, I am not completely sure.  What I do know is that when I found out, I took a long, hard look at myself, and all I saw were the flaws.

“Of course he would want to look elsewhere, I was overweight, I was unattractive, I was overly opinionated, and worst of all, I was not a good housekeeper,” I said to myself.

It never occurred to me to blame him.  In addition to blaming myself, I blamed the other woman. If only she had respected me and our friendship more, she never would have done this to me.

Really? If only she had respected me?

What about him? Clearly, he didn’t respect me either…… And, while that may be true, since it was my fault, I overlooked that detail……

But wait! Isn’t a marriage supposed to be built on mutual trust and respect? I suppose….. but if I had been the woman I was supposed to be, maybe he would have been different….

So, I jumped into action, and tried to be who I thought he wanted me to be….. I cleaned the house, cooked all his favourite meals, was an amazingly wonderful and creative step-mom, was available at all times of the day or night for sex, made sure that I did things that were outside my comfort zone to spice up the sex life, was overly attentive, wore the things he wanted me to (even if I thought they were unflattering), tried to lose the extra weight…..

And yes, all of those things really only amounted to a run-on sentence.

Firstly, I was miserable trying to ascertain what he wanted and how I could fulfill his every desire. Secondly, in trying to do all of that for him, my own self-esteem took a bit of a nose-dive. Thirdly, I was neglecting myself in about a million different ways, and fourthly, if I wasn’t starving myself, I was emotionally eating, all the while hating myself, and what I looked like. And, it will come as no surprise that I did not lose weight.

Indeed, I was miserable in general.

All the while, he was living his life normally. To give him a modicum of credit, he was apologetic about the affair and tried to make it up to me with meals out at fancy restaurants (and I wasn’t losing weight? Really?)

 

 

And, I now ask myself, why was I the one to become overly attentive?  If marriage is a trusting partnership, and one partner breaks that trust, shouldn’t he be the one to be over attentive, to discover what his partner needed?  Shouldn’t he have been to blame?

 

And shouldn’t we have worked together as a couple to try to fix it?

 

 

I never once asked for counselling surrounding this problem; I was too embarrassed.  ‘My husband had cheated on me, and it was because I was not enough for him.’  Again, that was not true – the issue in this case was his, not mine.  I won’t go into details, but from all accounts our intimate life was pretty healthy.  Even knowing this, however, I still asked myself what was deficient in me that I couldn’t give him what he needed.

I now understand that I was phrasing the question incorrectly; the question should have been, “what was deficient in him that he needed to look elsewhere”.  I also now understand that his issues led him to need to make me feel lesser so that he would make himself feel better.  He didn’t need a partner, he needed a booster.  He didn’t want a mate, he wanted someone on whose back he could stand and try to raise himself up.

I am not to blame for his behaviour.  I am responsible for how I reacted to his behaviour (which wasn’t perfect by any means!)  I am responsible for my behaviour, and in this I am secure that I was not wrong.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Meeting of the Minds

So, I’ve met someone.

Now, before you get all excited about that, it’s not what you think.

I have begun to cultivate a friendship with a man I met on Twitter.  And, before you let your imagination run away with you, I mean friendship.  And, no, friendship is not some euphamism for something else.  

So, now you’re wondering why this piece of information is blog-worthy…..

And, I see your point.  To most people, this would not be anything out of the ordinary.  Yup.  a new friend.  Great.

Except…..

Except that this person is a man.  

And? 

Well, I did not have male friends for many years.  And, while it’s true that I have rekindled past friendships with men, this is my first new male friend.

Previously, my “intent” during the simplest conversation would be misconstrued as flirty or indeed, overtly sexual.  (I can assure you, that there has been nothing in my conversations that could be construed as this, but that would have been the accusation. I can further assure you that I have no designs to make such conversation go in that direction!)

Let me give you an example.

One day, not so long ago, the family was out together, attempting to do some family event.

We stopped at a local farm stand; it was asparagus season.  I was choosing my asparagus, and a man and his wife and daughter entered the building.  The man quipped to his wife, “You’d better get there quick before that woman takes it all.”  

I, being a bit of a jokester, spread my arms wide, covered the asparagus with both hands, practically laid on it, and said “Mine, it’s all mine!”

We all laughed, and he and his wife started gathering their asparagus.

I walked back over towards my family, and my former spouse said “Where do you know him from?”

Just. Like. That.

He was implying that I must have known this man from somewhere else in order to be joking and friendly with him (and there was no mention that I’d also interacted with his wife).  

If we had still been involved, there would have been further questioning, and I would come out the other side as being involved in some kind of torrid relationship with him.  Just because I made a joke over asparagus.

This was an interraction of no more than 90 seconds.  Apparently, I am a quick study, if I can be involved in a torrid relationship after 90 seconds.  And, even though this seems like it must be fairly farfetched, it was the reality that I was living.

So, you can imagine how much more intense the accusation would be if I was engaged in conversations with a man.

One of the results of my relationship is this: I choose my words very carefully when chatting with anyone.  I am protective of my words, because I do not want them to be misconstrued as flirty or anything other than friendly.  Sometimes I feel as though I may be over compensating, and that could be misconstrued as trying too hard.

So, in this friendship with this man we have chatted about my family, his family, religion, social justice, the fall-out from my marriage, and generally, life, the universe and everything.  I am feeling really good about this connection; I like smart people.  I like to have inspiring conversations, I like to be challenged to new ways of thinking.  

But, what I am not feeling is this:  I am not feeling guilty.  I am not out to seduce anyone; I am not out to have an affair.  The chances are that I may never meet this man in person, and that’s ok.  I don’t feel guilty because I’m not doing anything wrong.  I am cultivating a friendship.

As humans we need contact with other humans.  We need to have friends, we need to be inspired.  I am excited that I am free to make new friends, to have those meetings of the minds.  I am excited that I get to choose those who are interested in my point of view.  I get to  choose those who inspire me, and I get to choose  who challenge me.  I also get to choose not to be with those who wish to control me or my opinions or my connections.

Playing Solitare

It was a fortune cookie kind of day, and mine said, “Now is a good time for a bit of solitude”.  

There is a fair amount of irony here, as tonight is the first night that my son will be staying at his father’s house.  I will have solitude to some degree foisted upon me, and I will be alone.    

It is partly of my own doing, as I am taking in a musical this evening with a friend, so I had asked his dad if he would care for Little Mr.  I will be arriving home quite late, but somehow assumed that Little Mr. would somehow be at my house.

I knew this was coming; I have been trying to prepare for this day.  But, now that it’s here, I’m not so sure.

Little Mr. has been pretty clingly with me lately.  He assumed that when he stayed at daddy’s I would be staying with him.  It only makes sense to him.  Daddy had been staying at Mommy’s house, so why wouldn’t Mommy stay at daddy’s?  I explained to him that his time at daddy’s house was his special time, and that he could then come home to Mommy’s house for special Mommy time.

He doesn’t quite get it yet.  

I wish he didn’t have to.

So, this morning when I was having my morning snuggle with him, I told him that he got to sleep at daddy’s house tonight.  Surprisingly, he was very happy and excited about the idea.  Partly, I was pleased; it’s certainly easier for me when he wants to do the things that are expected of him.  But a part of me was crying inside, “Mommy is going to be all alone tonight”.  

This is the part of letting go that saddens me, this letting go of my child.  I have written about it before, but this is more concrete.  It’s happening, and it’s happening tonight.

The real irony is that I was really looking forward to my evening out with my friend tonight.  I haven’t had much opportunity to see her much lately, so tonight was exciting on a number of levels.  I am going to see a production at the world renowned Stratford Festival, which is something that my former spouse always said he was interested in, until there was an actual show to see, then he wasn’t interested.  I am finally able to do these things, with some freedom.  His opinion on these things no longer matters!  

Now, however, the evening is tinged with sadness.

I’m sure that I will have a wonderful time; I’m sure that Little Mr. will have a wonderful time at his dad’s house.  This is probably the best way for my first night away from him to happen.  I am busy; I am doing something for me.  I’m going to have a great evening, and so is he.

I rather suspect that I will find that playing solitare will not be nearly as bad as I think it is.  In fact, I suspect that I will find myself refreshed and better able to focus on Little Mr. when we are together.  At that point, I will enjoy all my time with him, and he will enjoy his time with me.

So, I suppose, as my fortune cookie said “now is a good time for a bit of solitude”.

House of Cards

Well. It happened. My former spouse took possession of his house today. He’s excited. I can understand that. He wanted to share that excitement. He wanted to show me, and he wanted to show our son.

I took my child to see his daddy’s new house. I didn’t want to. And, with the exuberance of a child, he was very excited. He wanted to see his new bedroom, he wanted to see the backyard.

We got there, and were given the grand tour. It’s a cute bungalow, with enough bedrooms and a finished basement with a large family room. It’s got a good-sized yard.  It’s got the kitchen that’s going to be totally remodeled. It’s got a room for my son.

I hate it on principle.

Ok, so I don’t hate it, but I did dislike how excited Little Mr. was about it. I want to be glad for him; he has a whole new space that he can explore. I want to be excited about the things that excite him, but this time it’s really hard.  Part of me wants him to hate it there. I realize that’s very, very petty of me. He needs to like it there; he needs to feel safe. It needs to be his home as much as my house is his home.

And, he needs his mommy to be excited for him. He needs me to support him. And I will. If I’m not, this whole thing is like a house of cards just waiting to be toppled. Yes, he needs his parents to love him, to care for him and to work together for what’s best for him.

So, I put on my best game-face and told him that I was excited. I also told him that I would miss him when he was at daddy’s house.  He looked at me and said, “It’s ok, Mommy. I’ll always come back.”

Such a wonderful, caring child.

I have so much to learn from this wiseone …….. I’m glad he’ll always come back!

Weak Link in the Chain

I rode my bike to work today.  As part of my commitment to the environment, and to me, I am trying to ride as much as I can.  It’s good for me and I’m combining the practicality of travel time with exercise.  (It also is advantageous that my place of employment has a shower, so I can coif after my ride!)

My ride was slightly longer this morning.  I used the opportunity to drop off the work truck, and then ride in from there.  Along the twelve kilometre ride, I had a slight mishap.  My chain came off while riding up a hill.  I got off my bike and looked at it.  I had a split second of panic.  Could I fix this?

I was on a bike path, rather removed from the hustle and bustle of the city.  If I didn’t fix it, I was walking the rest of the way to work.  So, I did what I needed to do, and I looked at the chain.  It didn’t seem too complicated.  I fixed the chain, and it seemed to work just fine.

More than that, it did work fine.

I continued on my trek, and got to work to begin my day.

I pondered my momentary panic when my chain came off.  Why was that an issue?  I felt helpless, and useless and unable to take care of myself, just for a split second.

Wow.  That small problem took me back to other circumstances where I was told that I was unable or inadequate to do a small job like that.  I thought, momentarily that I couldn’t fix my bike chain because I’d been repeatedly told that I was stupid and incapable.

While I was in the midst of this, I wasn’t really thinking of all that historical baggage; I was doing what I needed to do in order to get to work.

I made the choice not to be paralyzed by the fear of inadequacy, and to do what needed to be done.  I fixed it.  It was an easy fix.

Going forward, I know that I must make choices based, not on fear, but rather on life, not on inadequacy, but on ability.

I must remember that my attitude, not my ability becomes the weak link in my chain!  I am capable, and now the only one telling me otherwise is that small voice in my head that still believes the lies.  That is the only weak link, and as that voice becomes weaker, I am becoming stronger.  Soon, there will be no weak link!

Kitchen Bitchin

I’m in an interesting  place. My former spouse has been telling me all about his new house and all the things he’s going to do in it.

He’s going to have a beautiful kitchen with a granite counter top and gas stove and under mounted sink. All the things he promised me in my kitchen.  He even asked by opinion of the layout.

I’m happy for him. Sort of. I’m trying to be……

You see, our house was in multiple states of renovation for the entire seventeen years we owned it. The kitchen never changed, the floor was subfloor. My bedroom walls were drywall board for more than five years.

I got to the point where I didn’t want to have people over because I didn’t feel comfortable in my space. I didn’t feel like cleaning up the clutter. What was the point?

But this isn’t about that.  This is now. I have a space with finished walls and a nice kitchen. My space is great, and it’s mine. I don’t want his space, so what is this about?

All of a sudden, I realized what was happening.  This was about the fact that having nice space now seemed important to him. Making a life together wasn’t as important to him as a granite counter top was.

None of this should come as a surprise to me; none of this is new.  And it’s not new, but today it makes me sad. Today I felt, for a moment like I wasn’t worth a new kitchen. And that set me to bitchin’.

This too shall pass. Not every day can be enlightening. Some days are frustrating, some days are sad. And today is my day to be bitchin’ and it happens to be about the kitchen! And I am worth a granite counter top, but not at the expense I would have paid to stay.

Constant Strength

Two quotes came through my Twitter feed today. Both quotes are from sources I admire and respect, and both were about forgiveness.

I have blogged about forgiveness before, when I was in a place where I was beginning to forgive myself, but not at all ready to forgive my former spouse.  

The first quote, from the Dalai Lama said, “The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.”

When I read this,  I thought, “Wow, I’m not sure I was really ready to forgive before.”  And then I realized that even then, even when I felt so helpless, so broken, so completely incapable, even then I was stronger than I realized. I had already begun to forgive myself, and even him a little.  And over the past few months as I have grown stronger, I have come farther down that road towards forgiving him.

The second quote was equally as timely, “Forgiveness is not an occasional act, it is a constant attitude.”  by Martin Luther King Jr. 

At this point, I know that I am strong; I am strong enough to forgive both me and him. And even though I am strong enough, my attitude sometimes holds me back. When I’m in a bad space remembering that I can forgive is a challenge. Sometimes, even when I am not in a bad space, forgiveness can be a challenge.

Over the next few weeks and months as my life changes even more permanently, I will need to avail myself of both the constant attitude of which King speaks and the strength to which the Dalai Lama refers.

I suspect that I shall, once again, be leaning on some friends who will remind me that I have always had that constant strength within me, and will help me move on with the grace towards the place where I am meant to be.

Very Love

I am incredibly sad today.

My house closed on Friday, and my former spouse bought a house that closes in about 4 weeks.

As I woke up this morning, I realized that the time of hearing him awaken and get ready for work is drawing to a close.

It’s real now.

The hardest part, though, is knowing that my little one won’t be with me every morning. He will be with his dad up to half the time (these things are still to be determined!)

We usually have a snuggle time in the morning that is, arguably the best part of my day.  I will miss that.  I will even miss his obnoxious alter ego, Captain Attitude.  I will miss everything about him.

I make it sound like he’s moving to the moon, or Antarctica, or California.  He’s moving across town, and only part time. Also, his dad and I have been getting along remarkably well, so I know that if I don’t see him every day, it will be very close to that – he has activities in which both his father and I will wish to participate.  And, he’s only a phone call away.

So, as I went downstairs to start my day, I first made a trip to the family room to sit with my boy for a few minutes.  I told him I was a little sad today, and just wanted some extra snuggle time.  Thinking nothing of it, he snuggled in and we watched just a little television together.

Later, as we were sitting at the table just finishing breakfast, Little Mr. came and sat on my lap, and said, “Mommy, I just want to sit with you.  I very love you.”

These are the moments that I will miss when he is waking up across town, but these are also the moments that I shall cherish even more, when he and I are together and snuggled up, or playing, or being silly.  

These will be the moments that I cling to, because I ‘very love’ him too.

Casualty of Lore

I lost a friend today.

One of the friends with whom I had reconnected sent me an email telling me that his wife is not comfortable with me being in their lives.  To be fair, I understand his wife’s concerns; historically, he and I were not just friends, we dated seriously for over two years.  He and I have a history, a story, and that is problematic for her.  He and I shared a relationship which she may feel threatens hers.

I wish that I could let her know that my interest was in being friends with both of them; I wish that I were not perceived a threat to her or to them.  I have attempted to let her know that, and her response was that she does not think that it’s a good idea to explore a friendship with me.

So, I lost a friend today.

I am, strangely, both incredibly sad and happy about this.

The sadness is pervasive.  This friend has been one of the ones reminding me who I used to be, and helping me find her again.  This friend has been quietly supporting me and reiterating that my decision is the correct one.  He has been there with humour and kindness, with compassion and just the right amount of sarcasm directed towards my spouse.  I have appreciated his presence in my life incredibly over the past month or so.  I also was able to put closure to some of the issues surrounding our past relationship, while moving forward.  It was a good reconnection!

So, you may be wondering where does the happiness come in?

Over the course of my marriage, I was accused of having affairs, of being “that kind of woman”.  I have done many things wrong in my life, but my marriage vows were (and are) very important to me.   I didn’t want to feel like the person responsible for breaking up a marriage, because I am NOT that kind of woman.

I am happy that my friend chose the path that was right for his family.  I know that our friendship will endure, even if we never have the opportunity to speak again.  How can I be so sure?  Well, when we reconnected, there was a sense that our friendship had continued through the almost twenty years since we had last spoken.  The friendship will continue because that’s what friendship does; it continues at a distance if necessary.

My sadness will abate; I will be content in the knowlege that my friend did what he needed to, what was right for himself and for his wife.

I hope that this friendship casualty will be the only one, and I am grateful for the time that we had to reconnect, to chat about our relationship, our pasts, and our current situations.  I look forward to our futures, which, although we won’t be travelling those roads together as friends, we will be honouring our relationship, and the relationships of those close to us.

Peace my friend, peace go with you!