video

My husband called to ask me what "my plan" is. For the zillionth time I told him what "our" plan was, reminding him of the many conversations "we" have had over the last several months that got us to this point. He is some big denial, if you ask me. Even after this has been talked about, mulled over, discussed to the point of bursting a vein, confirmed, amended, and almost-finalized, he is still playing dumb.



The first few months of this Beginning-of-the-End phase we're in, I would almost daily tell him what I needed from him in order to proceed with our relationship as a married couple. He would ask--I wouldn't just offer my advice unsolicited. It always involved repentance in some form. Inevitably, he would ask ---after I had just spent time explaining things from my point of view---"What do you mean?". Oft times he would simply walk away, seemingly frustrated that I had imposed requirements on him at all. Sometimes he would start doing nice things or using a nicer tone of voice. The thing he has completely avoided these months, is making any sort of effort at repenting. He is doing unrelated things---being nice, doing the dishes---to try and "make up for it".

He has apologized. The first apologies came with that unmistakable tone of a tantrum-throwing toddler. The words may have been the right ones, but the delivery negated all authenticity. But he continued to do as he wanted.

I saw this today and, for some reason, it just resonated with me. Especially around the 2:00 mark....it's, of course, not talking about personal relationships, but some of the money (mis) management this guy is mentioning rings true in my little corner of the world. Funny stuff. It's good to laugh.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=94lW6Y4tBXs

taking care

I don't want to become that Bitter Woman. You know who I'm talking about. The Woman who everyone cringes at when they see her because they never know what caustic words will come out of her mouth toward any unsuspecting man within earshot. Or every happy woman who compliments her husband, or every couples event the church plans, or anyone who has happiness about any sort of relationship in their life.

It's easy to dislike Her. The hard part, I'm realizing, is that I think it's probably quite easy to become Her.

I play mental ping-pong quite often these days. Berating myself for the times I trusted him; the many times I entrusted him with things of value in our life; the times I didn't question when I wanted to-or should have; the times we just moved on when I had this feeling of unrest. I should've listened to my heart, my gut, the Holy Spirit--whatever it was. I should've listened to it more. I thought that wasn't correct, or loving. I thought that I needed to show him I trusted him, which I interpreted as just doing what he wanted. And even though reading that makes me sound like Mrs. Milquetoast, I don't think I would characterize myself as spineless.

I had a voice in our marriage. Well, I had a voice in the sense that I spoke my mind. Looking back, that's all it was. Remember that philosophical question, "If a tree falls in the forest when no one is around, does it still make noise?"...or something like that. That question for me might be, "If the Mrs. speaks her mind and is not afraid to tell you exactly what she thinks, but you're too consumed with yourself and so mentally checked out that you can't decipher the words she's saying, do you still have to take them into account when making decisions that affect her?" I sometimes think I have probably been like that Far Side comic to him over the years---the one where the guy is talking to his dog, but all she hears is, "blahblahblahblah Ginger, blahblahblahblah Ginger".

I just heard the Bitterness.

I want to get over this hump. I'd like to be past this painful part of the process, but I'm not sure there's a way to fast forward through the hurt. Part of the hurt is recognizing how wounded I was--and am.

Weekly counseling is, no doubt, helping this, but truthfully, it's also unearthing a whole lot more garbage than I knew was there. I seem to have a Pavlovian response to walking into my counselor's office, but instead of salivating I tear up. Every raw emotion moves to the surface, and I either pour it out, using up every available kleenex in his office, or I try and intellectualize it and just talk around it. Some days he lets me intellectualize it. I know he knows I'm doing it--that I can't handle going there emotionally just then. Other days he pushes me to just trudge through it. So I do...crying copious amounts of tears in the process. I wish I could have known myself this well 12 years ago. I wonder if it would have made a difference.

If had been this strong a person--not a man-basher, but just a girl who knew herself well enough, and trusted herself enough to expect more---to demand more, I wonder if I would've married him in the first place.

The funny thing---not "haha" funny----is that I think all I really wanted was to be taken care of. I never felt taken care of...my parents weren't the nurturing type. They took care of needs, yes, but they didn't take care of the person I am. In more than 12 years of marriage, I don't know that I can think of a time when I felt taken care of. Not trying to be pitiful here, I'm just being honest. The thing I longed for most, the thing I needed most from my marriage Never. Even. Happened.

arrrggghhhh

I'm not sure how people can divorce amicably--or is it amiably? Or do they mean the same thing? Nicely. How can people divorce nicely. I wanted to be someone who did this well since I, apparently, am not great at the being married part.

I told my husband that I went to the attorney's office and that I have an appointment schedule in a couple weeks to get the paperwork done. He was immediately mad. "Why are you doing this to me? Why do you need to see one of THOSE people who are just out to keep your money? If you do this there is NO way we can get along well after it's over."

I asked if he was threatening me because it sounded awfully threat-ish. He said that I was the one threatening him by hiring someone who was going to go after him. Really? Does it just automatically mean that if someone hires an attorney that it's a big fight? With threats? I don't believe so. I want to hire an attorney so that we can be certain that our paperwork is legal and complete. I also want to have someone look over how we've decided to split up our assets (and I use the term loosely) and help us decide a few things we can't seem to agree upon.

We "discussed" things for awhile. Both of us putting our own spin on things. Both of us not seeing the other's point of view. I thought this might be a good illustration of why we do, indeed, need someone to help us figure things out. He started in on his non-sensical argument again.

His thinking scares me. I'm really not being dramatic...it scares me that a real live person--whom I've lived with for more than 12 years----can truly think the way he thinks about things. His financial irresponsibility baffles me the most. I cannot even type my frustrations because I'm certain a huge ulcer will form in my stomach and burst because of the stress I have just thinking about it. Dramatic, no?

I can't decide if it's wrong of me to want legal counsel. I don't personally perceive attorneys as something threatening. I invited him to come the meeting if he wanted, but reminded him that she would be acting as my counsel. To which he got upset again, saying something about "Exactly, that's what I mean about those attorneys!" What? I even asked him when he had had such negative experiences with attorneys because I could not recall a single time in our history where an attorney even played a part. He said he had heard of many, many, many stories where things were fine with people (who were filing for divorce), but as soon as an attorney was hired it all went downhill. (I did NOT mention that the obvious lack of credibility stems from the fact that most people are not "fine" when they file for divorce. There's usually something else going on that's the real problem, and that the attorney-hiring doesn't just spontaneously cause a relationship to go from "fine" to "divorce") I'm not sure if these are real life people or his imaginary friends, but their stories have clearly impacted him greatly.

Obviously, my trust in this man is at an all-time low. So, it's hard for me to believe that he really wants to sit down and work this out, but I said I'd be willing to try. There are a few weeks before my appointment, I can cancel if needed, or we can talk and then I can still have the attorney look it over for me. Right?

moving things along

Today I made an appointment to hire the attorney whom I consulted with a couple months ago. The receptionist had me come pick up a packet of information to work on and complete before our actual appointment in 3 weeks. I have to wonder if the sheer volume of paperwork---much of it repetitive---has ever deterred anyone from following through on their dissolution. Perhaps that's part of the idea in having so many forms to fill out with redundant information?

As I'm thumbing through it all, most of it financial information, it hits me how the last 16 years of being in the work force boils down to a few numbers on a page. Assets and debts. Children and property. He gets/ she gets.

My eyes blur as I start thinking about the bottom line. As in---making life count, not having a lot of stuff. There has to be more. I wish, honestly, there was going to be more material stuff. Maybe I shouldn't admit that, but it's true. I'd love to walk away from this able to fully furnish a home for my children and I. More than that, I wish---no, I hope--that at the very least, I can walk away remembering the true bottom line.

Today I watched in silence as people passed me by,

And I strained to see if there was something hidden in their eyes;

But they all looked at me as if to sayLife just goes on.

The old familiar story told in different ways,

Make the most of your own journey from the cradle to the grave;

Dream your dreams tomorrow because todayLife must go on.

CHORUS

But there’s more to this life than living and dying,

More than just trying to make it through the day;

More to this life, more than these eyes alone can see,

And there’s more than this life alone can be.

Tonight he lies in silence staring into space,

And looks for ways to make tomorrow better than today,

But in the morning light it looks the same;

Life just goes on.

He takes care of his family,

he takes care of his work,

And every Sunday morning he takes his place at the church;

And somehow he still feels a need to search,

But life just goes on.

(chorus)

So where do we start to find every part

Of what makes this life complete;

If we turn our eyes to Jesus we’ll find

Life’s true beginning is there at the cross where

He died.He died to bring us . . .(chorus)

Steven Curtis Chapman

selective hearing

The first time I met him I went in there alone. I'd reached a place in my marriage where I just didn't know what to do. I'd been telling my husband that things weren't working; we weren't connecting. He disagreed, which was the way this script played out in our relationship, so I made the decision to see this counselor on my own, hoping that I could at least learn how to be married to someone I didn't know at all and to someone who seemed perfectly ok with the idea that his wife was extremely unhappy.

On my very first meeting with the counselor I spilled everything. The good, the bad, the ugly, the really really ugly---about my husband and myself. About how our marriage just never seems to be going in the right direction. About the desperation I felt---and had felt for years---and I didn't know how to make this work if my husband didn't pick up some of the burden and help. How do you pull a train uphill by yourself?

My husband decided to come after my first session. In his own words he wanted to "defend himself" against what I'm sure he considered to be slanderous accusations against him. So he came. He sat. He listened. I don't know that he ever engaged, though. But he kept coming---WE kept coming for nearly 2 years.

I listened to the counselor tell me how great it was that my husband was even here----because "most" wives have to drag their husbands in kicking and screaming. I listened to him tell me how great a guy my husband was. That he "has a good heart" and really wants to make this work although there was no behavioral evidence to support these notions. I listened. I attempted (though not always cheerfully) to follow through on the practical application part of our sessions. Like the time when I was told that I needed to write down everything during the day that I wanted to talk with my husband about, and when he got home from work and was ready, HE could decide which 2 or 3 things to talk about from my list.

I really tried that. For 2 days. This exercise was something my husband thought was great---it exempted him from engaging in our whole life. He could pick and choose a couple simple, easy topics to talk about and appease me and then go hibernate in the garage for the rest of the night knowing that his part was done. I, on the other hand, realized quickly that this wasn't solving our problems. The lack of engagement in our life. The lack of intimate conversations with each other that weren't assigned by the counselor. The lack of trust. My need to really connect with my spouse wasn't even being considered, nor were the big ticket issues that are really at the heart of our soured relationship.

The last time we saw the counselor was about 6 months ago. It was after I had seen an attorney. I was trying to figure out what to do when none of the options seemed appealing. Do I stay in a marriage where betrayal and dishonesty are the only things my husband provides on a regular basis? Do I dissolve this union, be outcast by friends, family, and possibly the church, and change the course of my children's lives forever? It was like being asked "How would you prefer to die? By being shot in the head or run over by a train?" There is no good outcome.

My husband actually set up the appointment this time. A first for him. We went and sat, awkwardly, in the tiny counseling room we'd been in many times before. The first words out of the counselor's mouth were, "I had NO idea it was this bad."

I remember saying something the effect of, "Am I invisible? Because I TOLD you all these things on my first visit. I EXPLAINED in detail what our issues were and how long I'd been confused about what to do. You KNEW, you just got sidetracked when the handsome church boy saying all the right things came in and sat down. He LOOKED the part to you---while I was the emotional wreck of a wife---and he won you over. Just like he has won 2 other pastors over. He looked the part."

I don't remember what was said after that. It's all a blur. But I do remember thinking that here is a man (the counselor) with a really good heart, doing really good things for people in need. But he's human. And he did miss the mark with us. And he didn't really "hear" me for all of my transparency and honesty...he didn't hear me.

The good thing--if there can be a good thing from this--- is that it helped me to see that the only one who really knows my heart---really hears my cries, is God. And maybe that needs to be where my focus lies. I'm fairly certain God doesn't have selective hearing.

identity

I attended the court mandated parenting class today. Nothing they taught was what I would classify as profound, but I did come away feeling better prepared for who lies ahead. One theme today was about how we are now moving away from being part of a twosome into the single life.

My mind kept wandering to the last 12 years of what "being a couple" has meant. I don't want to sound overly dramatic or anything. I know that once we are divorced, living apart, and I'm basically on my own, that it will be a huge adjustment for all of us. The learning curve will be steep; I don't know what I don't know.

But all the talk about the loss of companionship and how our social group will change...well, I don't believe that will be part of our adjustment period. I've been married to a person who I am tempted to call anti-social. Someone whose complaints when I had invited people over ranged from "I don't know them very well" (which is sort of the point of getting together) "I'm busy" (which usually meant he'd spend the afternoon and evening working out in the garage by himself), or "It's too expensive" (which is why you make it a potluck or soup)

All of his arguments were for the sake of convenience. His, not mine. Because the pattern that seemed to develop over time was that he could get to know a stranger---when they had something he wanted. He did clear his schedule at a moment's notice---when it was something he loved to do. And, he has spent tens of thousands of dollars on things that are related to his interests over the years with little regard for the impact to our family.

What concerns me now is that I have not really had a social life for....well, years. I don't imagine being a divorcee is going to suddenly resurrect it. Am I doomed to a social life in the "divorce recovery" group at church, or is it really possible to have a diverse social group to interact with?

divorce and the church

Some people, upon finding out I'm in the midst of divorce, may find it interesting that I consider my faith to be of huge importance in my life. Faith, religion, Biblical standards and the like don't seem to go hand-in-hand with divorce. We all know that God hates divorce thanks to the oft quoted verse in Malachi. So, how could I claim to have a faith in God while doing something that he clearly hates.

Let me just say I'm no theologian. Not that there was any question of that, I'm sure. Just a disclaimer.

The thing I find interesting, fascinating, really, is that there are many things that aren't okay by Biblical standards. Lying, cheating, gossiping, slandering, fornicating (that word always makes me chuckle...it just sounds so...8th grade or something), killing, etc., and yet they happen daily across the globe.

I've often felt like some of the legalism of Christianity stems from trying to keep up the image. We're afraid to be found out. Would it be better to live the lie and look the part? It depends on who you ask, I think.

I recently received a letter from my former college campus pastor. In it, he talks about getting a phone call from a lesbian who is looking for a place to worship. She wants a place to be accepted not simply tolerated. I can't find the letter to quote it exactly, but he tells her something about the Bible being pretty clear about sin and it's not to be tolerated--or something like that. I've always been someone who appreciates a person with strong convictions--even if they don't match up with my own. But I had to wonder how many times this pastor has told someone about "sin not being tolerated" when they were gossiping, or lying, or using coarse language. What about when a spouse was treating their spouse disrespectfully...when a husband wasn't leading his family in the ways of the Lord, when a wife wasn't honoring her husband, when children weren't obeying their parents? What then?

All this to say that I fear what Christians will find necessary to say after I am officially divorced. Will they feel the need to educate me on what their version of the Bible says about divorce? Will they remember the times I opened up about the state of my marriage in the middle of that 10 week Bible study while everyone else nervously glanced around the room, uncomfortable with the real life dripping from my lips? What would happen if the lesbian girl just came to fellowship and meet God--and people were okay with that? What if it doesn't matter if I approve of someone and their choices? What if doesn't matter if everyone agrees with mine? Maybe instead of name tags we should wear our "unacceptable sin" (because lets face it, some of them ARE acceptable) on a label---might make it easier.

What if the church learned how to share Christ's love and left the judgement and wrath to Him?

whose fault is it?

Today was a hard day. We started out talking about who will be paying for what after the big D is final and we're living in separate residences. He doesn't want to pay for childcare---because "it's not fair" since he'll be paying for childcare during days that aren't even "his" days with the kids.

To be fair, I get it. I joke that I'm a Libra so I can see both sides of an issue. I really can. Even in this.

As the conversation went on, we both put in a plug for the challenges of our own plight as a future single parents. I, apparently, was complaining a bit much because he soon put me in my place with a "Well, this is basically your own doing anyways since you decided to see at attorney."

I took a few seconds to refill my lungs with air after that comment. My stomach felt like I'd been punched. This is how it's going to be from now on , isn't it? I think it is---and not just from him.

I have the impression that from here on out anytime I have a problem with childcare, a frustrating day, a need for some down time, or anything else that we humans have or need from time to time, THAT sort of response will be what I hear from him. And I'm guessing others will think it whether they verbalize it or not.

The worst part of that comment for me is that it exempts him from any part in this. Our divorce is only happening because *I* went to see an attorney. Not because we've had issues for years. Not because we sat in a counselor's office week after week for over 2 years together without him fully engaging in "our situation", but because *I* went to an attorney. THAT is apparently the REAL problem here.

And I think he really believes it. And I can't believe that I was such a sick and wounded person more than 12 years ago that I thought he could somehow complete me.

judgement

Today I went to my weekly counseling appointment. I've been going since late October, and, quite frankly, it freaks me out a little to imagine a time when Lynn isn't a regularly scheduled appointment in my week. When the going gets tough I check my schedule to see how many days until I can go dump it on him and watch him sort through the junk that is now my Life.

Being a counsel-ee isn't something I ever thought I'd be. I'm not sure I ever verbalized that fact, but I realize now that I sort of had a "thing" about people who were in counseling--subconsciously, perhaps, but there nonetheless. Maybe a stray thought here or there about neediness or desperation when I'd hear someone talk about their counselor. Nothing big or overwhelming, just a quietly-judging-from-the-sidelines thought that tampered with my perspective.

Of course, being a divorcee is also something I never thought I'd be either. And I'm quite certain that I have held judgemental ideas about people who have walked down this road before me. I know I assumed they didn't try hard enough, didn't value marriage like *I* did, weren't willing to give it their all, didn't love their children enough....you get the picture. I thought I knew. Understood.

Standing in this place has tweaked my perspective a bit. A lot, to be more honest. Everyone's story is different. Some people really don't value marriage the way I do; some don't try hard enough; some do crazy things that put their children in harm's way. But you can't tell by looking. And you definitely can't tell by just knowing they are Divorced.

I wonder--not that it should matter all that much, but it matters a little---what people's perception of me will now be. I'm more aware of things in conversations that point to bias in others as well. A teacher describing a student who's having trouble in school...."Well, her mom's single and you know how that is"....I'm sure there was care and concern in there somewhere, but I also heard something else. She's not a responsible parent. She's the reason her kid is struggling. She doesn't care enough or do enough. I admit it; I'm overly sensitive right now, but still. I'm not imagining all of it. It's there.

And, perhaps, it should be. Maybe it's akin to the kids who find themselves pregnant at 16. No one wants to be too nice or too kind because it might convey acceptance of their inappropriate behavior. And even though, after the baby is born, we're happy for them, rooting for them to make it and show the world they've got what it takes, there's still the awkward sense that we shouldn't be treating them like it's no big deal.

I wonder how this will play itself out in my life. How will my friends react. I know this doesn't just affect me and my kids and my soon-to-be-ex. The ripples radiate out from all of us into our social groups, work places, schools.

history part 1

I've thought for a few months now that I should blog about this part of my life. I wish I would have done it sooner to more accurately capture the raw emotions of the moment.

As of now, it's 6-weeks since I filed the divorce paperwork with the courthouse. In our state, there's a 90 day window that must pass in order to finish up all the necessary paperwork and take a parenting class before final paperwork is filed.

We're in a holding pattern. There's a house to sell. He wants it, but can't afford it alone. I don't want it--and couldn't afford it alone even if I did. He won't move anywhere else right now because "that's not fair", and I won't uproot the kids right now. I'd rather have the house sell and then we all move to our new places. We've come to a verbal agreement---which has never meant anything in our marriage----that if the house doesn't sell by July 31, he will find a one-bedroom apartment to move into. Then, when it's his weekend with the kids I'll hang at his apartment or a friends'. It would make this less "transistional" for the kids--at least in theory. I'd be a complete idiot if I claimed that his isn't going to impact these sweet kids.

I dislike being in this treading water stage. I've packed some of my non-essentials. I'm finding that some of them actually ARE essential---books, knitting stuff, photo albums...things I love to have around me. Comforting things. I feel like I'm living out of a suitcase with no idea when I'm going home. I'm sure there's a lesson in here somewhere.

the beginning of the end

I can't say I've ever spent much time considering divorce or its effects on all parties involved in one. Yet, here I am, more than 12 years after committing my life to the man I thought was Mr. Right, in the midst of my own personal hell. Divorce.

The beginning of the end wasn't just yesterday. In fact, the beginning of the end probably was around the time we got married. There are all the "signs". You know the signs. The things that Cosmo might have a quiz for to determine, "Will Your Relationship Last?", "Is He The One For You?", "Do You Have the Right Chemistry?" I had about as much sense as someone who puts any sort of trust in a quiz in Cosmo, so maybe this serves me right.

I wanted to be married. I'd been engaged before. Twice, to be more precise, and I was positive that my true source of happiness in life was that perfect man who'd encircle my left ring finger in diamonds and make lofty promises that he may or may not be able to keep.

I had no idea about marriage. In retrospect, I think this was bound to happen. My marital models turned out to be people whose marriages happen to look a lot like the one I'm in the midst of dissolving. Oh sure, theirs are "working" in the sense that they're still together. But in my newly found perspective, there's a huge chasm between being together and actually making things work.

And if I sound bitter, well, that's due to my lack of formal acting training. I cannot act well enough to overcome the anger, sadness, and looming depression that I fear will one day completely engulf me. I don't know how people step out of this unscathed. Actually, I know that they can't possibly be untouched by this, but I'm hoping that there is a point where happiness comes again. Joy outshines the dark and dreary, and getting up in the morning doesn't feel like an impossbile feat of strength.