Shouting My Truth

Don't tell me you're sorry 'cause you're not
Baby when I know you're only sorry you got caught
But you put on quite a show
Really had me going
But now it's time to go
Curtain's finally closing
That was quite a show
Very entertaining
But it's over now
Go on and take a bow

Grab your clothes and get gone
You better hurry up
Before the sprinklers come on
Talking' bout'
Girl, I love you, you're the one
This just looks like a re-run
Please, what else is on?

 

(from Take a Bow, Rihanna)

This was today...calling me at work...repeating how much he loves me...letting me know that he is going to see an attorney, not because he wants to but because he has no choice. Talking about how he wants our marriage to work in a way that makes me happy. REALLY???

 

Normally, I would remain silent upon hearing these words...in order to not summon painful emotions...in order to not make a scene at work.

 

...but I didn't care today. I wanted to shout out my truth. I spoke to him in the back aisle of the pharmacy. When he called again, I spoke to him at my station...in the open...with the new technician standing beside me waiting her turn to ask me a question. I didn't care who knew, I was tired of holding it in. I told him I could not believe that he loved me based on the way he had been treating me, and I was no longer interested in being treated that way. Everything that he told me, I had heard so many times before. It all truly sounded like a re-run. I cannot live like that anymore.

 

All this, however, took an emotional toll on me. I am drained. I called my therapist, and he helped me finish my work day. I had been shaking and on the verge of tears after each exchange my husband. Tonight, the ice on my wrists brought me so much relief. I physically relaxed, and I could feel the tension in my head ease...my headache nearly disappear.

 

It wasn't cutting...just a really good substitute.



Served

Today I handed my husband our separation papers. I did not have the sheriff serve him, nor did I allow my attorney's office to mail them to him. I laid them on his desk myself and let him know that they were there. I wanted him to know that I am not afraid.

Today is a day of tremendous accomplishment for me...a dream day. I dare to feel proud of myself.

Vacation Bible School

Jesus loves me!
This I know,
For the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to Him belong;
They are weak but He is strong.

 

(from Jesus Loves me, Anna B. Warner)

 



Day 1 Lesson: Jesus loves me even if I am weird.

Day 2 Lesson: Jesus loves me even if I am frustrated.

Day 3 Lesson: Jesus loves me even if I do wrong.

Day 4 Lesson: Jesus loves me even if I am scared.

 

Vacation Bible School. Does that exist anywhere else but in the South? Until I moved here thirteen years ago, I had never heard of such a beast! Because I am Catholic and I had never such much as heard the phrase uttered, I assumed it must be a Protestant thing.

 

...It isn't. Vacation Bible School (or VBS, as the locals call it) is the biggest God party...EVER...just for kids. And the Catholics down here have it too! For one week, the kids show up in their shorts and flip flops, hair still stringy wet from having spent the afternoon swimming, ready to sing, dance and rejoice. There are crafts, there are games, and there are skits that help illustrate the take home lesson of the day. The list above is what my children learned this week.

 

They started participating last summer, when my little one was finally old enough to attend with her sister. Every night when I picked them up, they were elated, rejuvenated, ecstatic!

 

That was last year...this year something was missing. When I took them on the first day, they seemed subdued, somewhat heavy. My kids looked sad.

 

I felt guilty...responsible for casting a cloud upon them. I wondered if they felt like I felt - undeserving of all the joy around them. Different from all the apparently happy families...who stay together. Unsure if we even belong in this celebration.

 

I don't know exactly what brought them down on that first day, but they must have learned their lessons well. They learned that Jesus loves them even if they are weird...different from everyone else. Jesus loves them even if they are frustrated by their helplessness in their parents' relationship. Jesus loves them even if they feel like they are wrong for feeling the way they feel. Jesus loves them even if they are scared of what their lives will be like when their parents are no longer together.

 

By the time I picked them up on the last day, they were singing enthusiastically and dancing on the stage. They looked radiant and filled with peace and love. I watched them dance and sway as they sang "Jesus Loves Me", and I tried not to cry...because I knew that the lessons were for me also.

They Never Saw It

Already I am beginning to feel different...different than the other mothers who are married. I have begun to tell the mothers of some of my children's friends...because they have heard it from their children, who heard it from my children and their mothers did not believe them.

"I'm so sorry", the tell me quietly and painfully, "I never would have imagined".

They could not see it. They could not see my pain and my sadness. They could not see the years of hurt. I played my part so well. I hosted the playdates, I attended the dinner parties, I carpooled, I went to the meetings, I volunteered and I chaperoned field trips...and I did it all with a smile. Of course I did; I was always happy when I was with the other mothers.

Now I am opening a window and allowing them to look inside. I am no longer pretending. "Yes, it is true", I told one mother today. "What my daughter said to your daughter is right. We are moving to your neighborhood...just the girls and me. Come, follow me, and I will show you the house where we will live."

The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside
Couldn't keep it in, heaven knows I tried!

Don't let them in, don't let them see
Be the good girl you always have to be
Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know
Well, now they know!

Let it go, let it go
Can't hold it back anymore
Let it go, let it go
Turn away and slam the door!

I don't care
What they're going to say
Let the storm rage on,
The cold never bothered me anyway!

 

(from Let It Go, Idina Menzel)

It's Over

I am tired, but I must write just a few words.

Tonight I told him...once again...but for the last time.

"Our marriage is not working. We can't live together anymore."

"What is it that you feel is not working?", he wanted to know.

I simply could not bring myself to go through all those reasons again. I no longer want to take that emotional trip.

"We have gone over this ad nauseam.", was my simple reply.

"...I'm not going to stop you. I'm not going to get in your way. I'm not going to get violent..." These words were surprising to me, considering the response that I got from him the last time I tried to deliver this message to him. Even more surprising, however, was when he asked this question, "Are you willing to go it alone? Like with me completely out of the picture?"

"I would rather you would not be completely out of the picture...for the girls."

"I don't want to hang around and be an appendage...part of your operation. As much as I will miss the girls and as much as they will miss me, I have to do what I need to do to survive, and that means living somewhere else."

I don't have the energy tonight to explore how I feel about that, but I certainly did not expect to hear that.

I am too numb to feel, and tomorrow I must speak to my daughters.

I Want my Mom

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
this brokenness inside me might start healing.
Out here its like I'm someone else,
I thought that maybe I could find myself.

If I could just come in, I swear I'll leave.
Won't take nothing but a memory
from the house that built me.

(from The House That Built Me, Miranda Lambert)

Sometimes we just need our moms. "We never outgrow our need for good parenting", shared my therapist with me yesterday as I cried and cried in his office, because for goodness' sake, I just want my mom!

I want for her to come and be with me. I want her help. I want her to be that grown-up who quietly guides me and lets me know that I'm doing the right thing...because she went through this also, and she was afraid also but ultimately her courage shone through and won.

...but she wanted her mom too...and she went to her.

I want to rest in her house...lie in the bed in her spare bedroom and rest, sleep protected and trouble-free. I wonder if she would be troubled if I held nothing in and cried for a long time. There are so many tears left to cry, and I don't want to hold them in...it hurts so much to do that.

I want to let them flow freely down my cheeks like a stream coming down the mountain to feed the river below...and then sleep in the shade of her life-giving tree.

Tactics and Stretegies

During my session earlier this week, my therapist explained a little bit to me about tactics and strategies. In the military, there is an overall strategy - the big picture, and there are specific tactics that are intended to lead to the big strategy. Sometimes the tactics contradict the strategy...but they still work.

This is the metaphor that he used when I spoke of my turmoil of feelings and the  contradictions that I sometimes see in my actions. This has troubled me...in fact, has brought much pain and anxiety.

The strategy is to end this marriage as peacefully as possible, while protecting the children from as much upheaval as possible. "It's going to be war", he has already told me. The tactics, therefore, have become actions that contradict my true feeling and intentions...it sickens me.

I must point out that using the term "tactic" connotes that my actions are planned out and purposeful. That is not entirely true. Specifically, what troubles me is my response to my husband's attempts at affection and overt sexual advances.

To be perfectly clear, I have not been sexually involved with my husband since the night last September when he forced his way on me. I have, however, acquiesced at times to pop kisses and hugs...against my will, but at times to keep the peace and at others to simply get him off my back.

This is where the tactics come into play. It was last October when I decided that I could no longer be married to my husband, but I was counseled by my attorney to wait until after Christmas before proceeding, for the children's sake. After Christmas came birthdays, Easter, an overnight out of state field trip and, of course, piano and dance recitals...all events that I could not bear to ruin for my children.

Although I have been very direct with my husband in expressing to him that I will never again lie in a bed with him and that I will never again feel the same way about him as I used to, he has continued to pursue me sexually in many different forms. Consequently, I have found myself in situations where I have said yes to a hug or a kiss, because his persistence has worn me down or perhaps to avoid a fight or a cold environment surrounding one of the above mentioned events...tactics to help me arrive at the final outcome without putting the kids through a dragged out war.

I find all of this sickening, revolting and nauseating...the same way that I feel every time his lips meet mine or I struggle out of his confining arms. If it is difficult to make sense of this post, it is because I myself am having a difficult time making sense of this entire situation. Once again, I have used my writing to try to work through turbulent emotions and a chaotic life.

...I am still working at it.

My Mind Hurts

My mind hurts. I am exhausted from dragging this burden. I want to yell out "IT'S OVER!!" and be done with it.

My soul hurts. It is shriveled from imprisonment and longs to live in truth. Where is my joy? I seem to always be lost elsewhere.

I am constantly and continuously tired...my mind cannot form words for the page, so the writing is sporadic and difficult to complete. Yet, I crave the self-expression and emotional relief.

When I encounter moments of quiet alone time, I want to sleep. I want to rest and escape from the thoughts, the planning, the organizing and the strategizing. Currently, my idea of rest is to sit and think absolutely nothing...or sleep...a long time.

Peace and rest seem so close that I can taste it, yet there is a rather tall wall to scale before I can reach that.

Love is Dead

I know that I should write. I wish I could speak this rage to someone. I burn with anger, yet at the same time I am tired of the arguments. Nothing between my husband and me matters anymore to me. There is nothing anymore worth arguing about.

...but I am angry that he would ask...and expect a different answer.

"Do you love me?", he asked.

"This is a bad question", I warned him.

"No, it isn't. Do you love me?"

"Love is dead."

Did he think that I should lie? What does he think that I have been trying to tell him and show him for the last eight months?

I can't explain what angers me. All I know is that I long for a different life.

The Octopus

My husband has two modes now: one in which he does not speak to me or acknowledge me and the other where he turns into an "octopus". Currently, he is in the octopus mode, grabbing me and touching me at will regardless of my verbal no's and physical rejections. While I am pushing one hand off of me, he is grabbing or pinching my breast with the other one. I feel humiliated and certainly objectified when he does this. Or he might stand in a certain place while I am getting ready in the morning, so that I have to walk by him as he steps closer to me and I am forced to rub against his erection. How does he think this is OK??

"I love you, and I want you to love me and want me too", he says.

"This has the opposite effect", I reply. "It repels me!"

"This is dead", I told him this morning, "and I will never feel about you the same way that I used to."

Yet, this evening he was making plans for the future and showing me furniture for the kids' room. What a convoluted life I am living, and I am exhausted from it.

I want to unlock the door to peace and rest...