Mother's Love

Last week, I went to see my mother. I drove for two days with my daughters behind me...another girls' adventure...until I finally rested in her presence. This homecoming was not to the house where I grew up, but to the place where she lives...truly home.

The plan had been to stay with her, dine with her, retire with her, wake with her. I wanted to repose in her comfort. I had been so tired. My older brother, however, unknowingly stole that from me. He had married and moved back to our native country some years ago and had returned a month prior to my arrival to visit with and take care of my mother and our suddenly stranded young sister-in-law. My girls and I stayed in a hotel just a few minutes away.

Still, I enjoyed her. After breakfast at the hotel restaurant overlooking American Airline's landing runway, we went to her and I took my place in her small kitchen while my daughters entertained themselves with books, movies, Wii games, or making fun of their uncle. Our talks started small, as I helped myself to the plate of freshly cut mangos picked a few days ago from a friend's backyard or a ridiculously sweet orange purchased from the fruit cart that comes around the neighborhood about once a week.

Gradually, our conversation would move amoeba-like into larger topics...my new peace and freedom, my husband's reluctance to let go, my children's adjustment, her writing, my little brother's unspeakable pain. Afterwards, my girls and I would head out for our daily outing, sometimes with my older brother and his wife (who arrived a couple of days after we did) and sometimes just the three of us. In the evening we would return to find the apartment smelling of my childhood...every night a traditionally home-cooked dish from the cuisine of our country. I wanted to melt into her warmth...the aroma of her care, for this is how she loves. This is how she tends to those in need...she cooks.

I cleaned up after dinner, as I had done as a child, and our night turned into more conversation and board games with the children. Late into the night, I would reluctantly gather up the girls and make the eight minute drive to the hotel, all of us finally sinking into beds overstuffed with fluffy pillows hours past our bedtime.

...but it was vacation, and I drank my fill of mother's love.

Defying Gravity

Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I'm through with playing by the rules
Of someone else's game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It's time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes... and leap!

It's time to try
Defying gravity
I think I'll try
Defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye
I am defying gravity
And you won't bring me down!

I'm through accepting limits
'cause someone says they're so
Some things I cannot change
But till I try, I'll never know!
Too long I've been afraid of
Losing love, I guess I've lost
Well, if that's love
It comes at much too high a cost!

I'd sooner buy
Defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye
I'm defying gravity
I think I'll try
Defying gravity
And you won't bring me down!

 

(Defying Gravity, as performed by Lea Michele and Chris Colfer, Glee)

Last Sunday, June 29th, I left my husband. I packed up what was mine and my children's, and we moved to our own home.

It is true what I have heard other women say about the day they finally take that step. Nothing compares to the pride and sense of accomplishment that you feel when you turn that key and open that door for the first time or the sense of peace and safety that you feel when you close and lock that door for your first night of undisturbed deep sleep...it is, indeed, all true.

Those of you who have been reading and accompanying me while I stumble through this rocky, dusty journey know how much courage it took for me to come to this decision last October and how much more courage it has taken for me to stand my ground and follow through with my resolve. I can hardly believe that I am standing here!

I can never go back...this peace feels too good! I have defied gravity, and I feel like there is nothing that can bring me down. I am flying free, and I feel beautiful. If it is his love that I am losing, then it truly came at much to high a cost. Living in a constant state of hurt, pain and uncertainty is just not acceptable. Kiss me goodbye.

Thank you to all who have read and commented, as well to those who have just read. Your companionship and support through so many dark days and moments of doubt has carried me through. My writing and your response to it has been an integral part of my survival through this process. I hope you will continue to read...I am anticipating some brighter posts in the future :)

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.