This business of creating boundaries is hard work.
It comes as no surprise that since boundaries were a major issue in our marriage, they continue to be an issue in divorce. Yesterday's post is proof of that ongoing problem.
But I'm not giving up.
I sent a cordial but firm email stating my discomfort with Bryan coming in the house when I'm not there. Again.
He was snappy in response, and returned his key.
Here's what I learned from all of this:
I want him to behave well. I want him to do the right thing without me telling him what to do, I want him to be responsible, and I want him to acknowledge that I'm being reasonable, fair, and cordial.
And that may never happen.
I can not control his behavior, and I certainly can't make him be nice to me. Acknowledging that is something I've been working on for a long time because it is really hard on me when I go out of my way to be kind and fair and he still snaps at me: it feels like a breaking of the social contract, and I feel pained when I think I'm being kind and he is rude in return. I have protested too much "But wait....I said....what I meant was....can't you see...." and it has had no impact on his behavior except perhaps to further annoy him.
Well, that's changing.
He was annoyed that I insisted on boundaries. It stung a bit that he was annoyed....but it doesn't matter. I know that I was being fair, and reasonable. He owns his response, and really, it doesn't have a thing to do with me. I don't need to fear his responses any more, because he can take his bad mood to his own house where I don't have to tiptoe around it any more.
What I care about is that I behave with integrity. It would be nice if he responded beautifully to that, but ultimately, it doesn't matter to me.
This is not rocket science. This is Relationships 101, and I should have learned it a long, long, long time ago. Still, it feels like a giant revelation to me to FEEL this an not merely "know" it, and I'm excited by this progress.
I insist on boundaries. I will persist in giving out boundaries that I believe to be fair and reasonable. I will persist in feeling good about myself no matter what he thinks of me.
Now that is progress, don't you think?
Showing posts with label divorce with integrity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label divorce with integrity. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Monday, July 23, 2012
Powerless
These days, I feel pretty powerful.
I am juggling housework, employment, finances, a series of broken objects such as a car repair, the dog, friendships, etc. And I'm being a pretty awesome single mom, too. On my next-to-nothing budget, I'm finding fun things to do with my beautiful daughter, treating her to things like a henna tattoo at the festival we went to, smiling and saying "No, you go ahead" and not letting on that I'd like one too, but it's not in the budget. Sleepovers at our house with home made chocolate chip buttermilk pancakes on the weekend. Helping her to make her dad an awesome birthday present, with the requisite shopping trips and time and such to make it happen. Snuggle time, time with friends. I make sure her teeth are brushed, her chores are done (so much easier to do them myself but I want to teach her), etc.
And I never, never, never belittle her dad.
I feel pretty good about myself. I've got some swagger back - the kind that makes men hold open doors for me, the kind that makes little old ladies smile at me.
Powerful. It feels good to be powerful.
But there is one area in my life in which I am completely powerless, and that one area tries to diminish all the others.
I can not be a father to my daughter. I can not meet her need for him.
And today it has had me in tears.
This weekend, Katherine got a bit angry with me, and said, "It's not fair. I spend time with you, but hardly any with Daddy, and it should be half and half. IT'S NOT FAIR!" I can see clearly that in her mind, this is something I've created, and she wanted me to fix it. Quietly, I tried to say something about how I've always been the one to help with homework and before school routines....but she pointed out that it was summer. I finally told her that I wanted her to have a good relationship with her dad, and I would support that, and that she needed to tell him that she wanted more time with him.
I did not say, "Your dad refuses additional time with you. He shows up late, drops you off early, and asks for "help" on his weekends because he has other plans." I said, "Honey, I want to support you and your daddy; I know how much you love each other. Why don't you talk to him?"
But today when she was elsewhere, I talked to him. I told him about our conversation, and he sighed heavily and told me how sad that made him. I told him about a childcare bind I'm in for this week, where I've asked girlfriends to help out with Katherine's care, but said he could take those days. Out of two full work days, he said, "Well, I could take her for a couple of hours...." and I thought I'd fall off my chair. I said, "She is homesick and tired of being away, and wants to come home early from the grandparents, but I have to be at work. She was crying when she went to my parents last night. I have to work, and since you're not working, would you be able to take her?" and he said "I guess I'll think about it." I said, "I am trying to figure out the Rubik's cube of my life between work and childcare," and he laughed, "Well, I'm trying to figure out my own Rubik's cube!" and then mentioned a hobby project he is working on.
Our daughter is begging for him, and he is holding her at arm's length.
I hung up the phone, on my lunch break, and sobbed.
I am certain that he is punishing me, thinking only that creating convenience for me outweighs his daughter's need for him.
I will figure out the money. I will figure out the time. I will figure out the fatigue. I will create fun between the hard work. I will care for our home, for our lives. I will stroke her hair when she's sad, and I will dance with her when she's happy.
But I can't be her dad, and watching her hurt is far more painful than chemo ever was.
I am juggling housework, employment, finances, a series of broken objects such as a car repair, the dog, friendships, etc. And I'm being a pretty awesome single mom, too. On my next-to-nothing budget, I'm finding fun things to do with my beautiful daughter, treating her to things like a henna tattoo at the festival we went to, smiling and saying "No, you go ahead" and not letting on that I'd like one too, but it's not in the budget. Sleepovers at our house with home made chocolate chip buttermilk pancakes on the weekend. Helping her to make her dad an awesome birthday present, with the requisite shopping trips and time and such to make it happen. Snuggle time, time with friends. I make sure her teeth are brushed, her chores are done (so much easier to do them myself but I want to teach her), etc.
And I never, never, never belittle her dad.
I feel pretty good about myself. I've got some swagger back - the kind that makes men hold open doors for me, the kind that makes little old ladies smile at me.
Powerful. It feels good to be powerful.
But there is one area in my life in which I am completely powerless, and that one area tries to diminish all the others.
I can not be a father to my daughter. I can not meet her need for him.
And today it has had me in tears.
This weekend, Katherine got a bit angry with me, and said, "It's not fair. I spend time with you, but hardly any with Daddy, and it should be half and half. IT'S NOT FAIR!" I can see clearly that in her mind, this is something I've created, and she wanted me to fix it. Quietly, I tried to say something about how I've always been the one to help with homework and before school routines....but she pointed out that it was summer. I finally told her that I wanted her to have a good relationship with her dad, and I would support that, and that she needed to tell him that she wanted more time with him.
I did not say, "Your dad refuses additional time with you. He shows up late, drops you off early, and asks for "help" on his weekends because he has other plans." I said, "Honey, I want to support you and your daddy; I know how much you love each other. Why don't you talk to him?"
But today when she was elsewhere, I talked to him. I told him about our conversation, and he sighed heavily and told me how sad that made him. I told him about a childcare bind I'm in for this week, where I've asked girlfriends to help out with Katherine's care, but said he could take those days. Out of two full work days, he said, "Well, I could take her for a couple of hours...." and I thought I'd fall off my chair. I said, "She is homesick and tired of being away, and wants to come home early from the grandparents, but I have to be at work. She was crying when she went to my parents last night. I have to work, and since you're not working, would you be able to take her?" and he said "I guess I'll think about it." I said, "I am trying to figure out the Rubik's cube of my life between work and childcare," and he laughed, "Well, I'm trying to figure out my own Rubik's cube!" and then mentioned a hobby project he is working on.
Our daughter is begging for him, and he is holding her at arm's length.
I hung up the phone, on my lunch break, and sobbed.
I am certain that he is punishing me, thinking only that creating convenience for me outweighs his daughter's need for him.
I will figure out the money. I will figure out the time. I will figure out the fatigue. I will create fun between the hard work. I will care for our home, for our lives. I will stroke her hair when she's sad, and I will dance with her when she's happy.
But I can't be her dad, and watching her hurt is far more painful than chemo ever was.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Looking back
I've been thinking of this post for a few days.
My entire relationship with Bryan wasn't horrible. There were good points, and there were kindnesses along the way. The reason that I feel sadness is that I saw the potential in those beautiful moments, and wished for a lifetime of them, and the marriage ending takes away that possibility. I didn't marry Hitler, and though I'm very certain that it's a good thing the marriage has ended, it wasn't always awful.
And today I'm acknowledging that.
Here's a little list of favorite moments with Bryan - a reminder that sometimes it was good, that he is not the devil incarnate, that I married him for good reasons, that though it is time to move on, he was an important part of my life, and I want to honor that, too.
- The first time we had sex, it was mind blowing. He was thoughtful and attentive in ways I'd never experienced before, with a dose of creativity thrown in, and it was fantastic.
- When he proposed, he'd thought through so many details, and he made it special and memorable.
- Our wedding day was just about perfect.
- We went to Paris one December when we were first married, and it snowed. Walking back from a concert (a quartet playing in a medieval church) late at night, wearing my long black wool coat with a velvet collar, holding hands under the streetlights as it started to snow.....was magical.
- He comforted me when my beloved grandfather died.
- The day Katherine was born, we didn't know the gender, and we'd agreed he was to tell me as soon as she was birthed. I looked at him, and with tears of happiness in his eyes, he whispered, "It's Katherine!" and the joy I felt at that moment was intense beyond anything I'd ever felt in my life, and I loved sharing that moment with him.
- One Christmas my parents were stressing me out immensely, and he helped me to feel calm and happy again in a way I don't think anybody else could have.
- Getting our dog together was a joy.
- The one cancer moment when he handled things perfectly was right after my mastectomy. I was high on painkillers and I was terrified that he'd never find me attractive again. I wanted the moment of showing him to be over, so while I was still in recovery, with tears in my eyes, I pulled back my gown, to reveal my flat, bandaged chest. He kissed the bandage softly, and said, "It's beautiful. It's beautiful because it means you don't have cancer any more." I will never lose my gratitude for that moment.
- Laying in bed listening to "rain, falling on a tin roof" (the Norah Jones song line) at our favorite cabin.
- Katherine adores him, and he adores her. They watch Stooges together and howl with laughter, and she looks at him with love in her eyes. Whenever they do something together, her whole face lights up.
- He is being incredibly reasonable about child support, and has told me he will do whatever it takes to have me keep the house, because he knows how important it is for Katherine to have that stability.
It wasn't all bad. This weekend, as we close the final door, I'm taking this little moment to remember the good, not just focus on the bad. It's like putting these things in a memory box, in my own way, or like saving old love letters from a relationship long gone. When it was good, it was good, and today I'm honoring that.
My entire relationship with Bryan wasn't horrible. There were good points, and there were kindnesses along the way. The reason that I feel sadness is that I saw the potential in those beautiful moments, and wished for a lifetime of them, and the marriage ending takes away that possibility. I didn't marry Hitler, and though I'm very certain that it's a good thing the marriage has ended, it wasn't always awful.
And today I'm acknowledging that.
Here's a little list of favorite moments with Bryan - a reminder that sometimes it was good, that he is not the devil incarnate, that I married him for good reasons, that though it is time to move on, he was an important part of my life, and I want to honor that, too.
- The first time we had sex, it was mind blowing. He was thoughtful and attentive in ways I'd never experienced before, with a dose of creativity thrown in, and it was fantastic.
- When he proposed, he'd thought through so many details, and he made it special and memorable.
- Our wedding day was just about perfect.
- We went to Paris one December when we were first married, and it snowed. Walking back from a concert (a quartet playing in a medieval church) late at night, wearing my long black wool coat with a velvet collar, holding hands under the streetlights as it started to snow.....was magical.
- He comforted me when my beloved grandfather died.
- The day Katherine was born, we didn't know the gender, and we'd agreed he was to tell me as soon as she was birthed. I looked at him, and with tears of happiness in his eyes, he whispered, "It's Katherine!" and the joy I felt at that moment was intense beyond anything I'd ever felt in my life, and I loved sharing that moment with him.
- One Christmas my parents were stressing me out immensely, and he helped me to feel calm and happy again in a way I don't think anybody else could have.
- Getting our dog together was a joy.
- The one cancer moment when he handled things perfectly was right after my mastectomy. I was high on painkillers and I was terrified that he'd never find me attractive again. I wanted the moment of showing him to be over, so while I was still in recovery, with tears in my eyes, I pulled back my gown, to reveal my flat, bandaged chest. He kissed the bandage softly, and said, "It's beautiful. It's beautiful because it means you don't have cancer any more." I will never lose my gratitude for that moment.
- Laying in bed listening to "rain, falling on a tin roof" (the Norah Jones song line) at our favorite cabin.
- Katherine adores him, and he adores her. They watch Stooges together and howl with laughter, and she looks at him with love in her eyes. Whenever they do something together, her whole face lights up.
- He is being incredibly reasonable about child support, and has told me he will do whatever it takes to have me keep the house, because he knows how important it is for Katherine to have that stability.
It wasn't all bad. This weekend, as we close the final door, I'm taking this little moment to remember the good, not just focus on the bad. It's like putting these things in a memory box, in my own way, or like saving old love letters from a relationship long gone. When it was good, it was good, and today I'm honoring that.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
A good divorce?
Two posts in one day, because it's Sunday morning and Katherine is at a sleepover and I woke up early, and so I have time to think, uninterrupted, which is a form of bliss. Hello again!
I've mentioned Constance Ahrons' book The Good Divorce on this blog before. If you are contemplating divorce, if you're in the middle of divorce, or if you're already divorced, and you have kids, this is the book to read. The book outlines ways parents can approach divorce in the least-damaging ways possible for their children. It's not a divorce law book, it's not a dating guidebook, it's not a justification for divorce book. This is a book about parenting through divorce, and helping kids, and I think it's thoughtful and wise.
Notice that I said least-damaging, not blissful. The book doesn't pretend that everything about divorce is wonderful and that the children will come out scott-free. Instead, Ahrons paves the way for approaches to divorce that make the best out of a bad situation. The general premise is that parental behavior impacts children as much or more than the divorce itself, and Ahrons suggests ways parents should behave in divorce.
I've taken the philosophies of this book to heart, and I'm doing my utmost to model my divorce on Ahrons' suggestions. No matter what Bryan does, or how he behaves, I am in control of my own responses, and I am aware that anything that I can do to lower conflict between Bryan and myself will positively impact Katherine.
I bite my tongue a lot.
(Do not Google images of biting your tongue. Gross.)
I think my tongue is covered in deep welts and scars, actually. When Bryan told me on Friday night that he was too tired to help Katherine with her bedtime ritual and he was going to bed, I smiled at Katherine and said, "Get in your PJs so we can read stories," instead of snapping at him that he hardly spends any time with his girl and I've had a hard week too....although that is what I deeply wished to say.
And it's paying off. I can not believe how much, but it's paying off!
Katherine is doing better through all of this than I even dreamed possible. When she found out that her dad had commited to an apartment, I held my breath, fearful that this new stage of reality would freak her out, but instead, she seemed to experience actual joy. I stared at her for a moment, I was so surprised by her response, but I think I get it now.
Katherine is doing okay because Bryan and I have followed through on our commitment to make this work for her.
The apartment is two blocks away, walking distance for a nine year old, and we've promised that she can go back and forth as she pleases, regardless of whose "day" it is. When Bryan announced he'd booked it, I immediately said, "Oh, I'm so glad it's so close!" and smiled at Katherine. Various people have said, "Ugh don't you want more space between you?" and while there is a part of me that feels that way, I mostly feel genuine enthusiasm for its proximity, knowing how nice it will be for her to just pop over to see her dad, or to come back here to get a favorite shirt or toy.
When Katherine was in a little play at church (ironically, about responding to change) last week, it was on "my" weekend, but I made sure that Bryan was invited, and we sat together to cheer her on. My mom came, too, and afterwards she invited all of us, Bryan included, to lunch. We all went, and we played nice.
Katherine doesn't say anything about it, but she sees it. And she MUST notice how the tension is falling around here. The tension is less than it was when Bryan and I were actively trying to stay married, as a matter of fact.
I'm packing all of Bryan's household stuff; he can't appear to get off his duff to do it, and I'd rather do it an hour here and an hour there than all in one mad rush (I really do dislike chaos). And I've refrained from badgering him about it, and I've actually been pretty pleasant to him, despite the fact that it's a royal pain, and blatantly unfair (I have my own massive to-do list, and I'm doing his, too). Katherine sees this, and I think she notices.
The funny thing is, Bryan is noticing too. He has been much more pleasant to be around lately, and he has snapped at me much less than usual. The tension is so much less, I actually told my mother "I think I like Bryan more now than I have in five years!"
Make no mistake: this is not a like of the "maybe we can make it work" variety. Actually, the thing that makes it easiest for me to like Bryan right now is the idea that I no longer have to be married to him. His problems are no longer my problems: I do not have to care about his mood swings, or his laziness, or the fact that he expects me to pick up his slack. He has lost most of his ability to hurt me. When there is some emotional distance, I simply don't care what he does, because it doesn't impact me nearly as much, and I'm not invested in making him be the kind of person I'd want to partner with. We have little in common, but it doesn't matter any more. We are not partners any more, and this frees me to like him in a casual way, from a distance.
What Katherine will see is that I will buy him a housewarming present. She will see that I will help him move. She will see that I bought him a nice Father's Day card. She will see that I am not arguing about possessions - I would honestly rather give him every last stick of furniture than fight any more, and fortunately he's not choosing to fight over "stuff," either. She will see us side by side, cheering for her.
I have coached my friends and family to accept him, too. I have called them and told them that they have my explicit permission to socialize with him, to call him, to support him, because he's Katherine's dad, and excluding him would exclude her. I have asked my family to include him in holiday events, because it's good for Katherine.
If we did not have a child, I would try to divorce on a handshake and walk away, possibly never seeing him ever again. I've got anger and sadness in spades, and I'm not confused by that....I do not always feel Zen about our divorce. But we do have a child, and that makes us a family, and family is forever. Our marriage is over, but our family is not.
And it's working. Katherine is doing better than I could have dreamed. Her grades are higher than ever, and she's become an amazing reader. Her counselor has said we can scale back on sessions because she's doing so well. She's doing well with her friendships. She's sleeping well - not too much or too little. With the notable exception of the one giant fit (blogged earlier), her behavior is utterly normal.
My life is complicated, and I struggle daily. Being a single working mother is exhausting, and the financial ramifications of this make my head hurt. I have no idea what the future will bring, and while I'm filled with hope, I also have fear.
But maybe I will get my good divorce. Divorce was not my dream, but as divorces go, maybe I can make this one as good as they come.
I've mentioned Constance Ahrons' book The Good Divorce on this blog before. If you are contemplating divorce, if you're in the middle of divorce, or if you're already divorced, and you have kids, this is the book to read. The book outlines ways parents can approach divorce in the least-damaging ways possible for their children. It's not a divorce law book, it's not a dating guidebook, it's not a justification for divorce book. This is a book about parenting through divorce, and helping kids, and I think it's thoughtful and wise.
Notice that I said least-damaging, not blissful. The book doesn't pretend that everything about divorce is wonderful and that the children will come out scott-free. Instead, Ahrons paves the way for approaches to divorce that make the best out of a bad situation. The general premise is that parental behavior impacts children as much or more than the divorce itself, and Ahrons suggests ways parents should behave in divorce.
I've taken the philosophies of this book to heart, and I'm doing my utmost to model my divorce on Ahrons' suggestions. No matter what Bryan does, or how he behaves, I am in control of my own responses, and I am aware that anything that I can do to lower conflict between Bryan and myself will positively impact Katherine.
I bite my tongue a lot.
(Do not Google images of biting your tongue. Gross.)
I think my tongue is covered in deep welts and scars, actually. When Bryan told me on Friday night that he was too tired to help Katherine with her bedtime ritual and he was going to bed, I smiled at Katherine and said, "Get in your PJs so we can read stories," instead of snapping at him that he hardly spends any time with his girl and I've had a hard week too....although that is what I deeply wished to say.
And it's paying off. I can not believe how much, but it's paying off!
Katherine is doing okay because Bryan and I have followed through on our commitment to make this work for her.
The apartment is two blocks away, walking distance for a nine year old, and we've promised that she can go back and forth as she pleases, regardless of whose "day" it is. When Bryan announced he'd booked it, I immediately said, "Oh, I'm so glad it's so close!" and smiled at Katherine. Various people have said, "Ugh don't you want more space between you?" and while there is a part of me that feels that way, I mostly feel genuine enthusiasm for its proximity, knowing how nice it will be for her to just pop over to see her dad, or to come back here to get a favorite shirt or toy.
When Katherine was in a little play at church (ironically, about responding to change) last week, it was on "my" weekend, but I made sure that Bryan was invited, and we sat together to cheer her on. My mom came, too, and afterwards she invited all of us, Bryan included, to lunch. We all went, and we played nice.
Katherine doesn't say anything about it, but she sees it. And she MUST notice how the tension is falling around here. The tension is less than it was when Bryan and I were actively trying to stay married, as a matter of fact.
I'm packing all of Bryan's household stuff; he can't appear to get off his duff to do it, and I'd rather do it an hour here and an hour there than all in one mad rush (I really do dislike chaos). And I've refrained from badgering him about it, and I've actually been pretty pleasant to him, despite the fact that it's a royal pain, and blatantly unfair (I have my own massive to-do list, and I'm doing his, too). Katherine sees this, and I think she notices.
The funny thing is, Bryan is noticing too. He has been much more pleasant to be around lately, and he has snapped at me much less than usual. The tension is so much less, I actually told my mother "I think I like Bryan more now than I have in five years!"
What Katherine will see is that I will buy him a housewarming present. She will see that I will help him move. She will see that I bought him a nice Father's Day card. She will see that I am not arguing about possessions - I would honestly rather give him every last stick of furniture than fight any more, and fortunately he's not choosing to fight over "stuff," either. She will see us side by side, cheering for her.
I have coached my friends and family to accept him, too. I have called them and told them that they have my explicit permission to socialize with him, to call him, to support him, because he's Katherine's dad, and excluding him would exclude her. I have asked my family to include him in holiday events, because it's good for Katherine.
If we did not have a child, I would try to divorce on a handshake and walk away, possibly never seeing him ever again. I've got anger and sadness in spades, and I'm not confused by that....I do not always feel Zen about our divorce. But we do have a child, and that makes us a family, and family is forever. Our marriage is over, but our family is not.
And it's working. Katherine is doing better than I could have dreamed. Her grades are higher than ever, and she's become an amazing reader. Her counselor has said we can scale back on sessions because she's doing so well. She's doing well with her friendships. She's sleeping well - not too much or too little. With the notable exception of the one giant fit (blogged earlier), her behavior is utterly normal.
My life is complicated, and I struggle daily. Being a single working mother is exhausting, and the financial ramifications of this make my head hurt. I have no idea what the future will bring, and while I'm filled with hope, I also have fear.
But maybe I will get my good divorce. Divorce was not my dream, but as divorces go, maybe I can make this one as good as they come.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
How I can be an optimist, despite it all
Over on the Daily Plate of Crazy, Big Little Wolf is having a conversation about how our principles and our pragmatism operate when we're at our worst. I'm starting to see that principles, attitude, and pragmatism all come together in something that I think gets at the essence of who I wish to be.
In her comments to me on my prior post, BLW wrote:
I say these things only to make this point: a good attitude is extremely useful (very helpful with our kids), but attitude and pragmatism are not mutually exclusive. Understanding that many of us are at our worst during and after divorce, we can prepare for that if necessary. We can also use that knowledge to understand that it's a painful process, with many tentacles, but pain often comes before healing - even if healing takes considerable time.
This is important thinking for a self-proclaimed optimist of the PollyAnna variety. There are plenty of people who believe that optimism is for fools, and that it can be dangerous for its lack of pragmatism. (Perhaps I should revisit Barbara Ehrenreich's book on the subject in another post, for she's covered it in great detail.) But BLW points out, correctly, that pragmatism must be linked to optimism, and this is when it starts to get exciting.
I'm convinced that to dismiss optimism is to miss the whole point of being alive. I think it matters. And I think that the best optimism comes with pragmatism, and the two operate hand in hand.
A fool disregards the facts, refuses to look, pretends that there is nothing amiss. If that fool puts a positive spin on things, people call her an optimist, but at heart, I believe that she's more fool than optimist. The Secret swept through America a few years back, proclaiming that all we had to do was declare our intentions and life would give us what we asked for; this is the ultimate in foolishness if you ask me. (Don't even talk to me about how angry I got, reading it as a bald, breastless woman.)
A pragmatist, on the other hand, trudges through things, one foot in front of the other, acknowledging that life is difficult and that there are difficult tasks to do. Pragmatism itself is not about joy, and so sometimes pragmatism is confused with optimism's opposite, surly negativism, but this is no more accurate to me than calling an optimist a fool. It's tricky business, though, trying to make pragmatism and optimism meet.
In divorce, optimists might believe that the future is rosy, that there is a new life waiting to be found. Pragmatists, on the other hand, have a to-do list that is daunting, and they're too busy trying to figure out if they can pay the mortgage AND keep junior enrolled in piano lessons, and they have to cancel book club because they can't get childcare, and, well, who can blame them for being a bit joyless.
But it can come together.
Optimism, Pragmatism, and Principles
When I gave birth to my daughter, I knew that I wanted that baby more than just about anything, ever. I had visions of our life together, of motherhood, of all I wanted to give her. I knew I'd go to the ends of the earth for her, and that doing so was part of my deal with my unborn baby. I wrote her letters before she was born, promising: "I will do whatever I can to keep you safe."
I didn't have to wait long to get tested as to how far I was really willing to go to protect her.
At the end of my delivery, everything went wrong. My baby's heartrate dropped in panic inducing ways, and my own blood pressure went sky high into dangerous levels. Two crash carts were called in, and the room filled with a dozen doctors ready to face the worst. To say that it was frightening doesn't even touch on how I felt - I was in agonizing pain, and suddenly I understood that my life, and my baby's, were at stake.
My gynecologist looked at me, and raised her voice to me (the only time she ever did so). Get this baby out NOW, she commanded. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?
Yes, ma'am. I understand. If I don't get the baby out, both of us are at risk of dying. I understand.
My principles laid out, I knew what to do. My principle was clear to me from the onset: do anything to protect my baby.
My principles fed my attitude: my baby was worth whatever it took, and whatever I gave her was from love. I would give her everything I had to save her, because she was worth it to me. I would give her anything, including my pain, and maybe my life, with love.
And then pragmatism had to do some work. As people called, "we're losing them" my gynecologist said, "NOW. I mean it. Get this baby out NOW!" I knew something inside me was wrong, that things were scraping, that my body wasn't "right," but the pragmatist said, "We have to do this. We will push with all of our might, and when we feel tearing, we will not stop. We will bear down, and we will force this baby out."
When my daughter was born in the next contraction, her hand was above her head, and she scraped my birth canal; it felt like birthing a cheese grater. When I tore, I knew I was tearing, and I kept pushing anyway, making the tear worse...but delivering the baby. It was a physical feat, but more, it was a feat of will and desire.
And it was worth it. So, so worth it. Delivery complete, both of us left the danger zone we'd been in. I had lived by my principles and done my best to protect my baby, taking a pragmatic approach (I was under no illusion as to how ugly it was going to be, but I did it anyway), and in doing so, uncovering the greatest joy I've ever known.
Principles + Pragmatism = Joy
I happen to be very, very, very fond of living with joy. I'll go out of my way to find joy, to identify it, and to keep it. And I have learned that if I apply my principles with pragmatism, I'll find joy eventually.....and this keeps me optimistic. Eventually, if I apply my principles with pragmatism, I'll find joy. There is reason for optimism!
It's not a secret. It's not The Secret. But my optimism is founded in the truth that I Know How To Find Joy. If I live according to my principles (which requires first, knowing what my principles are, and second, taking a pragmatic approach to living by them), then I will locate joy....and that is why I can be an optimist. It might not work out entirely the way that I want (I still do involuntary Kegals when I think about my stitches after birth), but there is joy in doing what I believe, and this allows me to approach life with optimism.
So how does all of this apply to divorce?
Divorce is it's own kind of ugly - I don't know how many (metaphorical) stitches I'll need by the time this is over. I can already feel where I will tear, though. And this leads me back to the inspiration for this post, BLW's words:
I say these things only to make this point: a good attitude is extremely useful (very helpful with our kids), but attitude and pragmatism are not mutually exclusive. Understanding that many of us are at our worst during and after divorce, we can prepare for that if necessary. We can also use that knowledge to understand that it's a painful process, with many tentacles, but pain often comes before healing - even if healing takes considerable time.
I know what my principles are. They are:
- honesty to self and others
- compassion to self and others
- protect my daughter
- be a great role model for my daughter
- live the best life I can live
- make the world a better place
I already know that divorce is not my best time. It's been an ugly road to get here, and I'm not okay yet. I am operating low on Maslow's heirarchy, even as I fantasize about operating at the top. And my ex is an angry, depressed person who self-sabotages and acts passive-aggressively and it's hard to have a logical conversation with him because he either shuts down or blows up, and I feel judgemental about him and angry that he put us in this position. I know I'm in the danger zone for acting like this:
I know lots of people who wouldn't blame me (although the "cheater" label doesn't apply....I don't think....). Sometimes he behaves badly, and I really want to act the way he does in response. Who could blame me?
But I won't act like that, because then I couldn't look our daughter in the eye. I won't act like that because it's not who I want to be. There are days when I think he deserves it, true, but *I* don't deserve it. I want to live with joy, and for that, I'm going to have to take the high road.
I have a lot of to-do lists. We're meeting with the mediator soon. And I've run the numbers more than I can count (thank you, Excel). I have plan A: he pays what he ought to; and I have plan B: I get nothing.....and I'm determined to make it work even if it's plan B. I'm working on keeping the house, but I'm talking to a realtor too. And I know that whether I get plan A, or plan B, I'm going to try to live my values, and that will give me some joy along the way, even when I feel tearing.
And I've got an ace in the hole.
Childbirth introduced me to pain. I healed from that pain, and marveled at my body's ability to do so. But it was nothing.
My real pain looks like 15 surgeries related to breast cancer, several of them with more complications than I can list. My real pain looks like the doctor telling me that it's 50/50 that I only had a few months left to live (yet here I am, healthy again). My real pain looks like radiation burns that made my skin crack open and ooze unmentionable things....and it looks like caring for my daughter and my husband yelling at me in the middle of it as I was hunched over from that pain. My real pain looks like riding a bus to chemo while my husband slept at home.
So, I know a thing or two about pain, and I know that it goes away: either you die and so you don't care any more, or you heal. I have healed, over and over again. I know how to heal, and I know what it looks like. I know that there can be unheard of complications, but still, eventually, I can heal.
So yes, I'm an optimist. I believe that I can heal, over and over again, no matter how deep the wound, no matter how terrible the odds. I'm a pragmatist, because I know how to thank the surgeon for her care, right before she cuts off my breast, and because I know that it doesn't matter how much I hurt, if my little girl needs dinner and nobody else is feeding her, then I need to make dinner. And I know what I believe in, and who I want to be, so I let that guide my decisions.
Forgiveness falls in there somewhere, in the neighborhood of compassion. All of the intentions in the world can not control every word that comes out of my mouth; I'm not infalliable, and I wonder what my ex would say if he read this post. But I can say this with certainty: I try my hardest to do my best, and I apologize if I screw up. Maybe it's optimistic to think so, but I think that is enough.
So, somehow, this is going to work out. I will make mistakes along the way - oh, I've made many, including along that cancer path - but I believe in my ability to recover from them. I will lose my optimism some days, and my pragmatism other days, but it's okay, because I won't lose what I believe in.
I'm alive, and I'm glad to be alive.
No matter how many tentacles reach out to squeeze me.
------------------------------------
How do you hold your sanity when the tentacles of pain grab you?
What tools do you use to live your principles when you're tempted to throw them out? What's your ace in the hole?
Are you an optimist? How do you maintain optimism in a world that is often ugly?
I hope to hear from you.
In her comments to me on my prior post, BLW wrote:
I say these things only to make this point: a good attitude is extremely useful (very helpful with our kids), but attitude and pragmatism are not mutually exclusive. Understanding that many of us are at our worst during and after divorce, we can prepare for that if necessary. We can also use that knowledge to understand that it's a painful process, with many tentacles, but pain often comes before healing - even if healing takes considerable time.
This is important thinking for a self-proclaimed optimist of the PollyAnna variety. There are plenty of people who believe that optimism is for fools, and that it can be dangerous for its lack of pragmatism. (Perhaps I should revisit Barbara Ehrenreich's book on the subject in another post, for she's covered it in great detail.) But BLW points out, correctly, that pragmatism must be linked to optimism, and this is when it starts to get exciting.
I'm convinced that to dismiss optimism is to miss the whole point of being alive. I think it matters. And I think that the best optimism comes with pragmatism, and the two operate hand in hand.
A fool disregards the facts, refuses to look, pretends that there is nothing amiss. If that fool puts a positive spin on things, people call her an optimist, but at heart, I believe that she's more fool than optimist. The Secret swept through America a few years back, proclaiming that all we had to do was declare our intentions and life would give us what we asked for; this is the ultimate in foolishness if you ask me. (Don't even talk to me about how angry I got, reading it as a bald, breastless woman.)
A pragmatist, on the other hand, trudges through things, one foot in front of the other, acknowledging that life is difficult and that there are difficult tasks to do. Pragmatism itself is not about joy, and so sometimes pragmatism is confused with optimism's opposite, surly negativism, but this is no more accurate to me than calling an optimist a fool. It's tricky business, though, trying to make pragmatism and optimism meet.
In divorce, optimists might believe that the future is rosy, that there is a new life waiting to be found. Pragmatists, on the other hand, have a to-do list that is daunting, and they're too busy trying to figure out if they can pay the mortgage AND keep junior enrolled in piano lessons, and they have to cancel book club because they can't get childcare, and, well, who can blame them for being a bit joyless.
But it can come together.
Optimism, Pragmatism, and Principles
When I gave birth to my daughter, I knew that I wanted that baby more than just about anything, ever. I had visions of our life together, of motherhood, of all I wanted to give her. I knew I'd go to the ends of the earth for her, and that doing so was part of my deal with my unborn baby. I wrote her letters before she was born, promising: "I will do whatever I can to keep you safe."
I didn't have to wait long to get tested as to how far I was really willing to go to protect her.
At the end of my delivery, everything went wrong. My baby's heartrate dropped in panic inducing ways, and my own blood pressure went sky high into dangerous levels. Two crash carts were called in, and the room filled with a dozen doctors ready to face the worst. To say that it was frightening doesn't even touch on how I felt - I was in agonizing pain, and suddenly I understood that my life, and my baby's, were at stake.
My gynecologist looked at me, and raised her voice to me (the only time she ever did so). Get this baby out NOW, she commanded. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?
Yes, ma'am. I understand. If I don't get the baby out, both of us are at risk of dying. I understand.
My principles laid out, I knew what to do. My principle was clear to me from the onset: do anything to protect my baby.
My principles fed my attitude: my baby was worth whatever it took, and whatever I gave her was from love. I would give her everything I had to save her, because she was worth it to me. I would give her anything, including my pain, and maybe my life, with love.
And then pragmatism had to do some work. As people called, "we're losing them" my gynecologist said, "NOW. I mean it. Get this baby out NOW!" I knew something inside me was wrong, that things were scraping, that my body wasn't "right," but the pragmatist said, "We have to do this. We will push with all of our might, and when we feel tearing, we will not stop. We will bear down, and we will force this baby out."
When my daughter was born in the next contraction, her hand was above her head, and she scraped my birth canal; it felt like birthing a cheese grater. When I tore, I knew I was tearing, and I kept pushing anyway, making the tear worse...but delivering the baby. It was a physical feat, but more, it was a feat of will and desire.
And it was worth it. So, so worth it. Delivery complete, both of us left the danger zone we'd been in. I had lived by my principles and done my best to protect my baby, taking a pragmatic approach (I was under no illusion as to how ugly it was going to be, but I did it anyway), and in doing so, uncovering the greatest joy I've ever known.
Principles + Pragmatism = Joy
I happen to be very, very, very fond of living with joy. I'll go out of my way to find joy, to identify it, and to keep it. And I have learned that if I apply my principles with pragmatism, I'll find joy eventually.....and this keeps me optimistic. Eventually, if I apply my principles with pragmatism, I'll find joy. There is reason for optimism!
It's not a secret. It's not The Secret. But my optimism is founded in the truth that I Know How To Find Joy. If I live according to my principles (which requires first, knowing what my principles are, and second, taking a pragmatic approach to living by them), then I will locate joy....and that is why I can be an optimist. It might not work out entirely the way that I want (I still do involuntary Kegals when I think about my stitches after birth), but there is joy in doing what I believe, and this allows me to approach life with optimism.
So how does all of this apply to divorce?
Divorce is it's own kind of ugly - I don't know how many (metaphorical) stitches I'll need by the time this is over. I can already feel where I will tear, though. And this leads me back to the inspiration for this post, BLW's words:
I say these things only to make this point: a good attitude is extremely useful (very helpful with our kids), but attitude and pragmatism are not mutually exclusive. Understanding that many of us are at our worst during and after divorce, we can prepare for that if necessary. We can also use that knowledge to understand that it's a painful process, with many tentacles, but pain often comes before healing - even if healing takes considerable time.
I know what my principles are. They are:
- honesty to self and others
- compassion to self and others
- protect my daughter
- be a great role model for my daughter
- live the best life I can live
- make the world a better place
I already know that divorce is not my best time. It's been an ugly road to get here, and I'm not okay yet. I am operating low on Maslow's heirarchy, even as I fantasize about operating at the top. And my ex is an angry, depressed person who self-sabotages and acts passive-aggressively and it's hard to have a logical conversation with him because he either shuts down or blows up, and I feel judgemental about him and angry that he put us in this position. I know I'm in the danger zone for acting like this:
I know lots of people who wouldn't blame me (although the "cheater" label doesn't apply....I don't think....). Sometimes he behaves badly, and I really want to act the way he does in response. Who could blame me?
But I won't act like that, because then I couldn't look our daughter in the eye. I won't act like that because it's not who I want to be. There are days when I think he deserves it, true, but *I* don't deserve it. I want to live with joy, and for that, I'm going to have to take the high road.
I have a lot of to-do lists. We're meeting with the mediator soon. And I've run the numbers more than I can count (thank you, Excel). I have plan A: he pays what he ought to; and I have plan B: I get nothing.....and I'm determined to make it work even if it's plan B. I'm working on keeping the house, but I'm talking to a realtor too. And I know that whether I get plan A, or plan B, I'm going to try to live my values, and that will give me some joy along the way, even when I feel tearing.
And I've got an ace in the hole.
Childbirth introduced me to pain. I healed from that pain, and marveled at my body's ability to do so. But it was nothing.
My real pain looks like 15 surgeries related to breast cancer, several of them with more complications than I can list. My real pain looks like the doctor telling me that it's 50/50 that I only had a few months left to live (yet here I am, healthy again). My real pain looks like radiation burns that made my skin crack open and ooze unmentionable things....and it looks like caring for my daughter and my husband yelling at me in the middle of it as I was hunched over from that pain. My real pain looks like riding a bus to chemo while my husband slept at home.
So, I know a thing or two about pain, and I know that it goes away: either you die and so you don't care any more, or you heal. I have healed, over and over again. I know how to heal, and I know what it looks like. I know that there can be unheard of complications, but still, eventually, I can heal.
So yes, I'm an optimist. I believe that I can heal, over and over again, no matter how deep the wound, no matter how terrible the odds. I'm a pragmatist, because I know how to thank the surgeon for her care, right before she cuts off my breast, and because I know that it doesn't matter how much I hurt, if my little girl needs dinner and nobody else is feeding her, then I need to make dinner. And I know what I believe in, and who I want to be, so I let that guide my decisions.
Forgiveness falls in there somewhere, in the neighborhood of compassion. All of the intentions in the world can not control every word that comes out of my mouth; I'm not infalliable, and I wonder what my ex would say if he read this post. But I can say this with certainty: I try my hardest to do my best, and I apologize if I screw up. Maybe it's optimistic to think so, but I think that is enough.
So, somehow, this is going to work out. I will make mistakes along the way - oh, I've made many, including along that cancer path - but I believe in my ability to recover from them. I will lose my optimism some days, and my pragmatism other days, but it's okay, because I won't lose what I believe in.
I'm alive, and I'm glad to be alive.
No matter how many tentacles reach out to squeeze me.
------------------------------------
How do you hold your sanity when the tentacles of pain grab you?
What tools do you use to live your principles when you're tempted to throw them out? What's your ace in the hole?
Are you an optimist? How do you maintain optimism in a world that is often ugly?
I hope to hear from you.
Friday, May 18, 2012
The lonely high road
In an effort to avoid repeating the divorce mistakes made by so many, I'm looking for role models.
One of the first books I found on the subject of divorce was The Good Divorce: Keeping Your Family Together When Your Marriage Comes Apart by Constance Ahrons, Ph.D. It was an auspicious start to my divorce research. In the book, Ahrons outlines an ideology for approaching divorce in a child-centric manner. I read it twice before I asked for a divorce, hiding it in my bedroom (we were already sleeping in different rooms a lot of the time, his choice not mine) until I was ready to commit to divorce. If I was to sum up the whole book, it would be, "Take the high road." The high road means being compassionate, it means controlling one's temper, it means placing the child's needs first and foremost. This seems like a sound strategy for me, and reading the book actually solidified my decision to divorce; it was the first strategy I'd seen that looked like something I could live with. (Make no mistake, the book doesn't advocate divorce, and it doesn't paint a rosy picture, but it doesn't paint a picture of parents screaming at each other through a car window, either.)
With the book under my belt, I thought that it would be relatively easy to find lots of people just like me, lots of blogs about women (or men) going through divorce just the way the book had defined.
I have taken to scouring the web to find just about every divorce blog there is. This is such strange territory for me: none of my close friends are divorced, my parents and my grandparents aren't divorced, and I don't have many footsteps to follow in. Surely there are people out there doing it the way I hope to?
There are plenty of angry, vitriolic blogs about divorce. Some of them are funny and entertaining, but when I read them I get a little chill to think of living in that kind of bitterness. I don't want to live like that, and I really don't want my daughter to live surrounded by that.
I don't know about you, but she doesn't look very happy to me.
I keep remembering, "Anger is a poison you drink to kill your enemy." I don't want to die like that. Sure, I'm mad - don't get me started - but I want to be HAPPY.
So far, I have found only a few blogs where the parents are both able to put their kids front and center, and have reached a place where they are living lives that aren't a testimony to anger and pain. Here's my list, in case there are others out there, like myself, who are looking for a little inspiration in the divorce department.
The first one, which is also the first one I found, is Molly Monet's Postcards from a Peaceful Divorce. Molly and her ex meet for dinners with their kids, she speaks kindly of him, she reflects on the marriage positively even though she is glad she is no longer in that marriage. I have grown very fond of Molly - a woman I've never met, or conversed with, and who likely has no clue who I am - and I've been rather in awe of her. Hers is the standard to which I have held myself, and mostly, I have felt like a miserable failure as a result. Overall, she comes across as a hip, happy, successful, well rounded woman who not only raises her kids with love and patience and joy, but manages to have a successful career, a commitment to yoga (and all of its health and social benefits), AND a dating life. I have spent hours trying to figure out how to be more like Molly, and how to achieve her brand of divorce. I hate to admit it, but recently when she admitted to some struggles that she's been going through, I felt a tiny bit of relief, because she's actually human, and her revealed humanity helped me to be gentler with myself. (And I hate that I would revel even a tiny bit in someone else's suffering - really, am I that small?! But I am incredibly grateful to Molly for putting it all out there, for me to look up to, and I'm also grateful to her for revealing that everything isn't perfect, because that gives me permission to be imperfect as well.)
Another blog, which I discovered more recently, is Cuckoo Mama's This Cuckoo's Nest. (Like me, Cuckoo Mama is blogging anonymously.) Cuckoo Mama isn't all Zen like Molly: actually, she gets pretty pissed off and blows off steam on her blog about her "beer monkey" ex and his shenanigans. But still, she puts her kids' needs front and center, even where the ex is involved. The kids stay in the house, and she and the ex take turns "birdnesting" in that house, so that the parents have to move in and out, but the kids stay there. This is an act of selfless love that only someone who has resorted to divorce could possibly understand: deciding that the marriage is too broken to continue, but sharing a physical space with that person, takes the patience of Job. Cuckoo Mama writes funny rants about dirty dishes left in the sink, and she threatens with her purse brick, but she puts it front and center that she's glad to do this for her kids, and that it works because her ex is a decent guy. I may aspire to be just like Molly, all peaceful compassion, but I relate to Cuckoo Mama, because she is angry but she does the right thing for her kids anyway.
Big Little Wolf's Daily Plate of Crazy is a blog about many things, including divorce. Big Little Wolf is wise, compassionate, and contemplative, and whatever she's writing about, I tend to love it. (Although I don't share her passion for Mad Men, but don't tell her, because she's a cool kid and I want her to like me, and she's crazy for Mad Men.) Recently I commented on a post of hers about where truth lies in divorce, and she gently told me that it is much easier to see truth a few years out from divorce, rather than right in the middle, as I am. Maybe this is why she seems to be so at ease with her divorce: she's no longer living it, she's moved past it, and it no longer defines her. I need to go back and read her archives (they go back to 2009), because I'd like to get to where she is now, but she's right, that's going to take me a few years. In the meantime, maybe I can read about how she got there....
An unusual - and therefore refreshing - blog is When The Flames Go Up, by ex-spouses LOD and AskMoxie. They take turns blogging their perspectives on divorce, and they are thoughtful and considerate of one another. This proves that it CAN be done, and I cling to their blog for that particular piece of hope. They don't want to be married any more, but they are still kind to one another, and that makes them great co-parents. Beautiful, don't you think?
There are lots of angry divorcee' blogs, to go along with the ones I've listed here. In William Quincy Belle's post The War of the Divorcees, he mentions the possibility that maybe, as a man, he should wear a cup when he reads some women's divorce blogs. I don't deny that there are reasons to be angry: when I read The Bitter Divorcee's description of how her son needed stitches after her son's drunken father hurt him, and how he doesn't even pay pittance child support, I don't blame her for being bitter (and I admire the grace with which she handles herself, given the circumstances; I enjoy her blog, too, even though it's not the model of divorce I'm hoping for, because she's wise and thoughtful even in her circumstances.)
But what I've learned in searching out blogs about "good divorces" is that really, decent divorces are few and far between. When I read The Huffington Post's Divorce section, it seems that the world has gone mad, and it's mostly about adults behaving like over-tired toddlers, screaming for the sake of screaming. The type of divorce I'm still envisioning isn't easy to come by, and most of the time, when I tell people my vision, they look at me as if I'm deluded.
I want to act like that too. But don't you think I'm too old?!
Then again, those are the same people who told me that NO WAY could Bryan and I live in the same house with Katherine together for a year after deciding to get divorced. They told me that it was impossible. They told me that I'd never make it.It has been lonely, it has been isolating, it has been frustrating, it has been exhausting....but it's been a year. The high road is lonely, but I'm glad that I've got a few havens on the internet to show me that I'm not truly alone in my approach, and that maybe, just maybe, I can make this work for everyone.
Do you read other divorce blogs? Which ones? What inspires you? What makes you laugh? Where do you find intelligent discussions about divorce? Do you have a divorce blog? Please, let me know....especially if you've found others who are taking the high road. I look forward to hearing from you.
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