Coming this spring will mark the 7th anniversary of the ex's first affair. His first foray into infidelity involved a waitress/cook at a place called Jerry's Diner. Her name was Tonda and she phoned me one evening to tell me she was in love with my husband. He, of course, did a lot of fast talking, explaining away everything she had said. He painted a picture of a terribly unstable, misguided woman and while I came to find out she did have some psychological problems the whole story of a sexual relationship was true.
Now I ended up speaking to this woman on more than one occasion. The first time she called was the beginning of spring break and she continued to call constantly that whole week. She would call and hang up. She would call and tell me things about their relationship. She called in the morning, she called in the afternoon and she called at night. I finally called the phone company and had our number changed and unlisted. The calls stopped. About a month went by with no interference from this woman - I thought things were back on track... still believing what the ex was telling me in reference to this woman's delusional fantasies. Then one day, while I am at school, I get a message from the office I have a call. I go to answer it and... guess who? You got it... Tonda. I called the ex... told him this was going on ... and he finally fessed up... yes he had been having sex with this woman. She continued to call me at school that day .... call after call. I called the police. They contacted her and she feigned ignorance but the phone calls to the school office stopped.
Fast forward...
My son played football in high school. A pretty good little ball player if I do say so ... fall Friday nights were either spent at home games or traveling to (quite often far) away games. That was our ritual for four years - very pleasant memories. Being that this was MY son playing ball I was a very enthusiastic supporter of #45. I cheered, sometimes loudly... and this seemed to bother the ex. I suppose he felt I was a tad too enthusiastic but the way I looked at it I was the one who endured the 14 1/2 hours of labor to bring this child into the world... if I wanted to scream for him to RUN then I was well within my rights to do so.
One night after a game, a particularly good game for son, ex looked at me and said, "Do you have to be so embarrassing?" Ah, well, as the saying goes - if looks could kill.... I remember looking at him coldly and I quietly and simply said, "If you want to talk about embarrassing then lets talk about some psychotic BITCH calling me at school. Now THAT is embarrassing." And I got up and walked away. He later muttered some little half hearted apology but I look to that incident as a turning point in a way. For me it was a slap in the face for him to question my behavior when his had been so deplorable in so many ways. But in truth, all of the fallout, all of the backlash, all of the embarrassment for his behavior fell on me.
He was never the one to bear the brunt of it, feel the impact. It was interesting once - his mother used that word, the word embarrassed, to explain why her son was neglecting the kids. She said something like, "I think he just finds it difficult to see the children because he is so embarrassed." "Ahhh well," I said, "I know how that feels."
3.29.2008
Things Are Starting to Make Sense
A year after the ex and I got married he joined the Army. His MOS was a technical one... applicants had to have high scores to be considered and his training took a year to complete. Our first duty station was Fort Hood Texas. All of the men he worked with were very intelligent guys. The company was pretty tight and we all would often spend time together. Sometimes it would be dinner out, sometimes hanging out at the lake, sometimes a night on the town - I seemed to get along with the wives just fine. We had a support system going because we were often left alone while the guys were out in the field or on some mission (and then of course there was the Gulf War). But I usually ended up talking to the men a lot. It was never a super flirty type situation (at least I didn't think). Wives were never pissed off and the ex never seemed to be upset ... in fact he was proud. He once said he liked the fact I got along well with the men and that the men all liked talking to me. He explained that they all liked talking to me because I was intelligent and creative. I could keep up with them, engage in a conversation about any topic and hold my own.
On days I packed ex's lunch I would put it in a brown paper sack. One day something possessed me and I decorated the bag. I used markers to draw pictures, add silly quotes, and I include some jokes. I was a stay at home mom, so hey, I had the time. I was a regular Martha Stewart. Well, ex loved it. So I continued to do it. Those goofy bags became a hit. Ex would go to work and when lunch came around the guys would start in... "what's on the bag today!" I was obviously a source of pride to him.
At some point in our marriage that changed. I suppose it was a gradual thing. He left the Army when his contract was up... he knew he would have an overseas unaccompanied tour, most likely Korea for two years, and he didn't want to miss any more time with us. He didn't want to miss anymore time with his son, he wanted to be a husband and father that was involved and THERE. So we moved. We came back home, he found a job with people he liked. Things were going well, we bought a house, we had our daughter. He took a different job, he was traveling a lot. He stopped taking me along on social situations. Somewhere along the way I stopped being a source of pride to him. The things he once appreciated in me, my intelligence and creativity, became embarrassments. And so at some point I started looking at those things as negatives as well. I stopped nurturing them. I closed them up, hid them away, neglected them - my screwed up attempt at conforming or reinventing myself in a more palatable likeness - anything to find a way to make me acceptable to him again.
Now that I have had this "awakening" of sorts I have started to rediscover those things about me that are innately who I am... those things I tried to deny and ignore. This blog has become one outlet for me in that rediscovery. And the more I think about these things, the more I start to honestly look at where I have been, where I am now - the more things start to make sense to me. Ex wasn't a stupid man. I use the past tense, was, because now I think he has dumbed himself down... I think he has adopted an attitude that he is obtuse and unrefined in an attempt to justify to himself his behavior and choices. When he was in the Army being in that selective MOS was an honor to him, being around other smart men was an honor, and having a wife that was "exceptional" was an honor too. All of it was a marker of sorts... proof that he was of value. I think though, as he became sick, as the bipolar disorder started to manifest itself, his perceptions changed. He was surrounded by shallow people engaging in shallow activities; it fed his mania and excused his depression. It became proof he was worthless and because I had substance I didn't fit - I stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. I was a reminder of who he once was... so he began to blame me, point to me as the problem, and I bought it.
I abdicated myself, my true self, to the idea of the marriage. I lost me in a futile attempt to save something that couldn't be saved because - in truth - marriage isn't about losing yourself - and when it crosses that line, when it becomes about that, the soul of the marriage is gone. Whenever we are in a relationship with someone it always requires a willingness to compromise. There are even times that love necessitates a sacrifice or two (or three or four...). But love - true, real, honest to goodness love - never requires us to be someone we aren't. Part of learning to love myself again has been accepting that and nurturing those inherent things that make me - me... those things that I had neglected all those years. It is all starting to slowly make sense, I just wonder why it took me so long to realize it.
On days I packed ex's lunch I would put it in a brown paper sack. One day something possessed me and I decorated the bag. I used markers to draw pictures, add silly quotes, and I include some jokes. I was a stay at home mom, so hey, I had the time. I was a regular Martha Stewart. Well, ex loved it. So I continued to do it. Those goofy bags became a hit. Ex would go to work and when lunch came around the guys would start in... "what's on the bag today!" I was obviously a source of pride to him.
At some point in our marriage that changed. I suppose it was a gradual thing. He left the Army when his contract was up... he knew he would have an overseas unaccompanied tour, most likely Korea for two years, and he didn't want to miss any more time with us. He didn't want to miss anymore time with his son, he wanted to be a husband and father that was involved and THERE. So we moved. We came back home, he found a job with people he liked. Things were going well, we bought a house, we had our daughter. He took a different job, he was traveling a lot. He stopped taking me along on social situations. Somewhere along the way I stopped being a source of pride to him. The things he once appreciated in me, my intelligence and creativity, became embarrassments. And so at some point I started looking at those things as negatives as well. I stopped nurturing them. I closed them up, hid them away, neglected them - my screwed up attempt at conforming or reinventing myself in a more palatable likeness - anything to find a way to make me acceptable to him again.
Now that I have had this "awakening" of sorts I have started to rediscover those things about me that are innately who I am... those things I tried to deny and ignore. This blog has become one outlet for me in that rediscovery. And the more I think about these things, the more I start to honestly look at where I have been, where I am now - the more things start to make sense to me. Ex wasn't a stupid man. I use the past tense, was, because now I think he has dumbed himself down... I think he has adopted an attitude that he is obtuse and unrefined in an attempt to justify to himself his behavior and choices. When he was in the Army being in that selective MOS was an honor to him, being around other smart men was an honor, and having a wife that was "exceptional" was an honor too. All of it was a marker of sorts... proof that he was of value. I think though, as he became sick, as the bipolar disorder started to manifest itself, his perceptions changed. He was surrounded by shallow people engaging in shallow activities; it fed his mania and excused his depression. It became proof he was worthless and because I had substance I didn't fit - I stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. I was a reminder of who he once was... so he began to blame me, point to me as the problem, and I bought it.
I abdicated myself, my true self, to the idea of the marriage. I lost me in a futile attempt to save something that couldn't be saved because - in truth - marriage isn't about losing yourself - and when it crosses that line, when it becomes about that, the soul of the marriage is gone. Whenever we are in a relationship with someone it always requires a willingness to compromise. There are even times that love necessitates a sacrifice or two (or three or four...). But love - true, real, honest to goodness love - never requires us to be someone we aren't. Part of learning to love myself again has been accepting that and nurturing those inherent things that make me - me... those things that I had neglected all those years. It is all starting to slowly make sense, I just wonder why it took me so long to realize it.
Little Wonders
Life... our lives... what are they made of? Are they a dapple of grand, momentous occasions scattered about sporadically or are they a string of little wonders connected by a thin, fragile thread? I am sure some would say both and in reality I guess that is true. Our lives are a composite; a sum total added together to make a whole. But when I think about the moments that make up my life I tend to think about those small, quiet, precious ones. The moments that I marked in my mind went unnoticed by others - either because others weren't there or were unaware. I think about nursing my newborn daughter, rocking her in her nursery, just the two of us, me quietly staring in amazement - mesmerized by her perfect little face. I think about picking my son up from his first overnight baseball camp at the age of 12 and looking at him with such awe and admiration because he had the courage to go alone and in doing so learned more than just the fundamental skills of the game. It could be a song, a kind word someone uttered, an intimate conversation, a smile. All little pictures - still photographs I took and stored in my mind; a scrapbook of sorts that no one else has ever seen.
I can remember for years sitting at the Christmas Eve service at church and listening to the Bible verses that tell the story of the Nativity. But one year, listening to all the different accounts, I heard it for the umpteenth time... "But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart," and for some reason that stood out to me that time. All the times I quietly stood back and watched my children, all the times I marked some moment with my mind, every time I took one of the those still framed photographs, I was treasuring those things and keeping them to ponder in my heart. I know that the birth of Jesus wasn't a minor event - but some how I think it wasn't so much the grandness of the event Mary was thinking about ... but perhaps, instead, the small, quiet, humbleness of it all.
I think I am missing that right now. I have to find a way to get back to an appreciation of the soft, often silent, string of moments in life. I need to shut up, settle down, stop searching, and just be. Yet why is that so much easier said than done? I can legitimately look at my life and reason and rationalize why I am having difficulty doing it - it doesn't take the proverbial rocket scientist to figure it out. But it doesn't take a rocket scientist to see the proper course of action either. I am making a little headway though... I think. And I have the sweetest, most caring people in my life who talk to me, send me words of warmth and genuine affection - and I dearly love them. They are honest, kind and compassionate. They kick my ass, they make me laugh, and they send me hugs and kisses when I need them most (even if they don't realize I do). I treasure them... and will ponder them in my heart - always. So maybe I'm not a lost cause after all... maybe, just maybe, by sitting back, watching, waiting, I'll start to notice those small, precious moments of wonder again.
I can remember for years sitting at the Christmas Eve service at church and listening to the Bible verses that tell the story of the Nativity. But one year, listening to all the different accounts, I heard it for the umpteenth time... "But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart," and for some reason that stood out to me that time. All the times I quietly stood back and watched my children, all the times I marked some moment with my mind, every time I took one of the those still framed photographs, I was treasuring those things and keeping them to ponder in my heart. I know that the birth of Jesus wasn't a minor event - but some how I think it wasn't so much the grandness of the event Mary was thinking about ... but perhaps, instead, the small, quiet, humbleness of it all.
I think I am missing that right now. I have to find a way to get back to an appreciation of the soft, often silent, string of moments in life. I need to shut up, settle down, stop searching, and just be. Yet why is that so much easier said than done? I can legitimately look at my life and reason and rationalize why I am having difficulty doing it - it doesn't take the proverbial rocket scientist to figure it out. But it doesn't take a rocket scientist to see the proper course of action either. I am making a little headway though... I think. And I have the sweetest, most caring people in my life who talk to me, send me words of warmth and genuine affection - and I dearly love them. They are honest, kind and compassionate. They kick my ass, they make me laugh, and they send me hugs and kisses when I need them most (even if they don't realize I do). I treasure them... and will ponder them in my heart - always. So maybe I'm not a lost cause after all... maybe, just maybe, by sitting back, watching, waiting, I'll start to notice those small, precious moments of wonder again.
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