First: a tribute. Today is Katherine's tenth birthday, and I just want to say for the millionth time how incredibly much I love, admire, respect, and cherish my daughter. She is the best thing that ever happened to me, and I have no idea how I got so lucky as to have her. She is kind and compassionate, thoughtful, loyal, and has more integrity in her pinky finger than most people have in their whole bodies. She is a hard worker, and she is incredibly persistent. She is the best friend in the world, and the close relationships she holds are beautiful to witness: there is no backbiting, no gossip, only a pure type of love that is rare and beautiful. Once she has a friend, she keeps her forever - she's retained the friendships she's had since infancy, and they are more precious than ever.
She's incredible, and I am blessed.
Which is how I am getting to my second point.
My ex is not someone I trust. When he talks to me, he is often rude and almost always abrasive. He's quick to fly off the handle, even when I am doing backflips to be accomodating, and he doesn't care about throwing little temper tantrums in front of our daughter. He still lies to me - small lies, sometimes meaningless, but I can't count on him. He says he never saw the email, even though he replied to it directly. He says I never told him, even though it's on our mutual calendar. He shows up late to pick up our daughter, and delivers her home early.
Just typing that makes my stomach hurt.
Today, for her birthday, Katherine requested a dinner at our home with both of her parents. I didn't hesitate and immediately told her that I'd love to do that for her. (Okay, first I said, "Are you sure you don't want to pick a restaurant?" but she was clear, she wanted both of her parents in her home.)
And today I am feeling anxious and sad about it.
My ex is going to be in my house, and who knows what snarky rude things he will say to me. Our daughter has requested dungeness crab - her favorite, and a veryveryvery rare treat - for dinner, and I can imagine him making snide remarks about the price, or complaining that I serve garlic butter instead of lemon butter (or vice versa), or taking all of the claws for himself. I can imagine him helping himself to things from my kitchen, not just what I serve. I can imagine that when I sit down he'll start requesting things from me. I can imagine that when I say something intended to be pleasant, he will say something hurtful in response. If I ask him how he is, he might say it's none of my business, and if I don't ask him, he might tell me that clearly I don't care about him.
It's a vicious cycle, and one I'm all too familiar with.
What's worse, is that it brings back so many bad memories dating to when I was pregnant and then the day of Katherine's birth. I won't dwell on it, only say that he hurt me badly then.
Today he posted pictures of himself and our daugther, taken over the years, on his Facebook page in honor of her birthday. The pictures are all very sweet, and I believe that all of them were taken by me. They all show a smiling father and his beautiful child. But people who see them don't know the back stories like I do: the one in a Santa hat that he appears to be so proud of was the day we got our Christmas tree and he didn't want to go and he thought the hats were stupid and I felt like I was two inches tall and I just wanted a happy Christmas experience and he kept snapping at me; the one on the hiking trail where he sulked and refused to walk with us and actually disappeared for two hours when we were by the lake and Katherine kept saying "where'd Daddy go?" and I didn't know and I was starting to wonder what I would do if I got back to the trailhead and the car was gone; the one at the Fourth of July Parade when it was too crowded and he was mad at me and he once again left and we didn't know where he was and he wouldn't pick up his cell phone and then when he did locate us he yelled at me and I cried when Katherine was out of earshot. But nobody seeing the pictures would know that. And they wouldn't know that I took those shots.
A few people have told me flat out that having him come over is too much, that I'm crazy to let him into my life like that. Well, on my own account, they're right. There is a part of me that would like to tear nto him and give him a piece of my mind; there is a part of me that is crafting cutting retorts to his rudeness.
But I won't do it. I will invite him in, I will smile, and I will serve him wine and crab and Caesar salad and garlic bread that I have purchased and prepared. When he complains that it's taking too long and he's hungry (remember, he doesn't work, but I will be the one rushing home to turn these ingredients into a special meal after work) I will smile and say "would you like cheese and crackers while you wait?" If he snaps at me, I will redirect my attention to Katherine and say "Tell me about your day at school, honey. Did the class sing to you before the cupcakes?" (The ones I made last night, frosted at 6 this morning, and then delivered before work to her school.) I will dish up the crab on each plate from the kitchen, so that he will not take three of the four claws for himself. (Katherine will get two because it's her birthday, he and I will each get one.) If he gets really bad, I will look at him directly and say, "It's our daughter's birthday, and I refuse to ruin it, and hope you will make it good for her as well."
This turning the other cheek thing isn't for sissies. It's at the exact moment that I want to slap the rudeness off his face that I need to lower my voice, and turn to view my daughter with loving eyes. I am doing this for her, and for my own integrity, and not for Bryan. He's enough of a fool that he won't even realize how hard I'm working at not taking his bait, and he will not be appreciative of my kindness to him.
Today, he comes, and as a gift to my daughter, I will feed him, serve him, clean up after him, welcome him, be kind to him, make smalltalk with him. And I will do it as graciously as I am capable of doing so that it doesn't look forced, and so that I eliminate as much tension as possible.
Because that girl of mine? She deserves it.
But I thank God that after dinner he will leave and go to his own residence, leaving me at peace in mine.
Happy Birthday, Katherine. I hope that I honor you today, sweetheart. May you never read these words, never know the extent of my anger, frustration, and disappointment in your dad. And should you ever learn, may you know that my love for you is a thousand times bigger than my feelings for him, and you are worth it, every last bit of it.
Showing posts with label integrity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label integrity. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
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.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Almost time
First of all, thank you so much to those of you who reached out to ask me to keep blogging. I received emails as well as comments, and your words have moved me to tears. I am so grateful for your support and kindness, and you are appreciated. I am filled with gratitude.
I will keep blogging. I will try to be thoughtful in my choices, to be respectful, but also to be truthful, and to share not only my PollyAnna optimism - which is very real, and a deep part of me - but also my fears and struggles, because it would be simplistic to think that I could get through this without them.
My goal is to live my life with integrity and compassion, towards myself as well as others. I'd like the blog to reflect that, although it is a lofty goal, and one that I may not always reach.
To those of you who have encouraged me in that direction, again, I say thank you. I am grateful.
*****
This is the week, and I am days away from Bryan moving out.
He has not packed one box.
I have Thursday and Friday off work, and I am prepared to run around getting boxes and packing materials, and filling in my own gaps for the house. I will be in charge of Katherine, too, and I am fearful that I won't know how to give her what she needs, because I am feeling very self absorbed right now, and very quiet. My brain is awash in fear - no, not quite fear, more like anxiety. There is so much going on, and I am fighting for my Zen house, not this house of chaos, but I feel low energy, and anxious, and I really do wish I could go to bed and wake up when it's all done.
I will rent a carpet cleaner for Sunday, and I will spend at least two hours cleaning his bathroom on Sunday. Yuck. No wonder I want to fast forward until next week! Plus, moving is stressful under any circumstances, but this move is so disorganized, and he hasn't asked anyone to help, and I'll be his main person helping, which will likely lead to frayed tempers on both sides. I have promised myself to be perky and focused on Katherine and to do whatever it takes to get the job done....but I'm so scared of the whole business, because it's so much work and so stressful.
I've been focused on "stuff" this week in a way that surprises me, but today I think I realized that I'm focusing on stuff, not emotions, because it's tangible. I can't control how this move goes, and if it's a disaster, then it's his disaster, and he is responsible, because I am not in charge of him, the move, or how he handles things. So, I've transferred some nervous energy into silly things - will there be enough bedside lamps to go around? What will I use as a bedside table in the guest room? I need to get Katherine a bookcase! I must have a toaster! (Not of the $10,000 variety, either.) Now, I probably make toast once a month, so obsessing about a toaster is....odd, to say the least. But somehow I've found myself worrying about little things like that, knowing full well that if Katherine has stacks of books in her room for a few weeks she wouldn't care, and that if we can't make toast it doesn't matter, but I've been focusing on things like that anyway.
Today is Tuesday. He's supposed to move on Saturday. It's going to be a long week.
And my body is responding by my face breaking out (seriously?!) and my arm lymphadema flaring up; my arm isn't swollen but it's throbbing, which is the precurser to swelling for me. Damnit.
I don't have anything wise to say today. Today is not a day for deep introspection, or for lessons, or for humor, or for wisdom. Today, and this week, I just want to do what must be done to get through to the other side. And I want to get out of my own head enough to be a great mom, not merely a sufficient one (which is how I feel right now).
Thank you for your continued thoughts and prayers.
I will keep blogging. I will try to be thoughtful in my choices, to be respectful, but also to be truthful, and to share not only my PollyAnna optimism - which is very real, and a deep part of me - but also my fears and struggles, because it would be simplistic to think that I could get through this without them.
My goal is to live my life with integrity and compassion, towards myself as well as others. I'd like the blog to reflect that, although it is a lofty goal, and one that I may not always reach.
To those of you who have encouraged me in that direction, again, I say thank you. I am grateful.
*****
This is the week, and I am days away from Bryan moving out.
He has not packed one box.
I have Thursday and Friday off work, and I am prepared to run around getting boxes and packing materials, and filling in my own gaps for the house. I will be in charge of Katherine, too, and I am fearful that I won't know how to give her what she needs, because I am feeling very self absorbed right now, and very quiet. My brain is awash in fear - no, not quite fear, more like anxiety. There is so much going on, and I am fighting for my Zen house, not this house of chaos, but I feel low energy, and anxious, and I really do wish I could go to bed and wake up when it's all done.
I will rent a carpet cleaner for Sunday, and I will spend at least two hours cleaning his bathroom on Sunday. Yuck. No wonder I want to fast forward until next week! Plus, moving is stressful under any circumstances, but this move is so disorganized, and he hasn't asked anyone to help, and I'll be his main person helping, which will likely lead to frayed tempers on both sides. I have promised myself to be perky and focused on Katherine and to do whatever it takes to get the job done....but I'm so scared of the whole business, because it's so much work and so stressful.
I've been focused on "stuff" this week in a way that surprises me, but today I think I realized that I'm focusing on stuff, not emotions, because it's tangible. I can't control how this move goes, and if it's a disaster, then it's his disaster, and he is responsible, because I am not in charge of him, the move, or how he handles things. So, I've transferred some nervous energy into silly things - will there be enough bedside lamps to go around? What will I use as a bedside table in the guest room? I need to get Katherine a bookcase! I must have a toaster! (Not of the $10,000 variety, either.) Now, I probably make toast once a month, so obsessing about a toaster is....odd, to say the least. But somehow I've found myself worrying about little things like that, knowing full well that if Katherine has stacks of books in her room for a few weeks she wouldn't care, and that if we can't make toast it doesn't matter, but I've been focusing on things like that anyway.
Today is Tuesday. He's supposed to move on Saturday. It's going to be a long week.
And my body is responding by my face breaking out (seriously?!) and my arm lymphadema flaring up; my arm isn't swollen but it's throbbing, which is the precurser to swelling for me. Damnit.
I don't have anything wise to say today. Today is not a day for deep introspection, or for lessons, or for humor, or for wisdom. Today, and this week, I just want to do what must be done to get through to the other side. And I want to get out of my own head enough to be a great mom, not merely a sufficient one (which is how I feel right now).
Thank you for your continued thoughts and prayers.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Does Daddy really have to move out?
Another busy day. Work, work, work, run to get child, come home to dog (unwalked) and house (uncleaned) and no dinner. Make dinner. Tidy up breakfast dishes. Sit down to hot home cooked meal (late but I did it, tasty and balanced), feeling like maybe, just maybe, I can do this...
And then the question, like four thousand bricks flying at me, hitting my body, bruising me, knocking me down, suffocating me with their weight when I fell. Accompanied by Katherine's flushed cheeks, and tearful eyes the color of the sky in summer, it was hard for me to breathe. My own eyes filled with tears immediately.
"Yes, baby, he has to move out. I am so, so sorry that I can't make our family work together. I would do anything to give you a great life..."
"Then Mama, can't he just stay in the basement?"
(More tears. Mine. I was powerless to stop them.)
"No, baby, it's time for him to move out. It will be really hard at first, but we will all adjust, and I'm just so, so sorry that it has to be this way. This is not what I dreamed of for any of us, and I wish it didn't have to be this way, but your dad and I aren't good together. We weren't good for each other, and that is not how we want to teach you to have a marriage. In good marriages, people have fun together, and they don't yell at each other, and they work hard together. We just weren't good at that, and we tried, but we couldn't do it..."
Silence. I tried again.
"In some divorces, the parents just yell at each other and it's hard for the kids. We're trying not to do that to you. When you're with me, you can visit Daddy just down the street whenever you like as long as it's not bedtime or something like that. I want you to love Daddy, and he wants you to love me. We don't want to put you in the middle, honey, and we want to give you a great life. We will try to make this as good for you as we can."
She just sighed. And changed the conversation.
I still feel sick to my stomach over it.
I didn't say "Daddy shouldn't have yelled at Mama" and I didn't say "Daddy wasn't trustworthy" and I didn't say "Daddy tried to make Mama do all the work" and I didn't say "Being with Daddy made me feel more lonely than when I was alone." I'm giving myself a gold star for that. Two or three gold stars, actually.
But I don't want gold stars. I want to make my daughter's life lovely and beautiful and I don't want her to feel any pain. I especially don't want to be a source for her pain.
Divorce hurts her. I was never under any illusions about that. No child hopes that their parents will have such a bad relationship that it will lead to divorce, and she is no exception. When he moves out, it's going to hurt her like nothing else in her life. (My cancer hurt her, but she was so little, she has forgotten so much of it. This is a blessing.) I can not protect her from that pain.
I can not protect her from that pain, and it's all I want to do.
I believe that ultimately divorce will help her by teaching her to stand up for herself, and by my modeling of strength and compassion. She will draw her own conclusions about her father. She will also draw her own conclusions about me. I will do everything in my power to model of life of integrity, to lead us both to joy, to be a pillar of strength, to create a beautiful life for myself and for her....but I will not have the proof of my decisions, good or bad, for many years.
I believe, in head and heart, that I am doing the right thing ultimately for her as well as myself.
But please don't mind if I cry myself to sleep tonight.
And then the question, like four thousand bricks flying at me, hitting my body, bruising me, knocking me down, suffocating me with their weight when I fell. Accompanied by Katherine's flushed cheeks, and tearful eyes the color of the sky in summer, it was hard for me to breathe. My own eyes filled with tears immediately.
"Yes, baby, he has to move out. I am so, so sorry that I can't make our family work together. I would do anything to give you a great life..."
"Then Mama, can't he just stay in the basement?"
(More tears. Mine. I was powerless to stop them.)
"No, baby, it's time for him to move out. It will be really hard at first, but we will all adjust, and I'm just so, so sorry that it has to be this way. This is not what I dreamed of for any of us, and I wish it didn't have to be this way, but your dad and I aren't good together. We weren't good for each other, and that is not how we want to teach you to have a marriage. In good marriages, people have fun together, and they don't yell at each other, and they work hard together. We just weren't good at that, and we tried, but we couldn't do it..."
Silence. I tried again.
"In some divorces, the parents just yell at each other and it's hard for the kids. We're trying not to do that to you. When you're with me, you can visit Daddy just down the street whenever you like as long as it's not bedtime or something like that. I want you to love Daddy, and he wants you to love me. We don't want to put you in the middle, honey, and we want to give you a great life. We will try to make this as good for you as we can."
She just sighed. And changed the conversation.
I still feel sick to my stomach over it.
I didn't say "Daddy shouldn't have yelled at Mama" and I didn't say "Daddy wasn't trustworthy" and I didn't say "Daddy tried to make Mama do all the work" and I didn't say "Being with Daddy made me feel more lonely than when I was alone." I'm giving myself a gold star for that. Two or three gold stars, actually.
But I don't want gold stars. I want to make my daughter's life lovely and beautiful and I don't want her to feel any pain. I especially don't want to be a source for her pain.
Divorce hurts her. I was never under any illusions about that. No child hopes that their parents will have such a bad relationship that it will lead to divorce, and she is no exception. When he moves out, it's going to hurt her like nothing else in her life. (My cancer hurt her, but she was so little, she has forgotten so much of it. This is a blessing.) I can not protect her from that pain.
I can not protect her from that pain, and it's all I want to do.
I believe that ultimately divorce will help her by teaching her to stand up for herself, and by my modeling of strength and compassion. She will draw her own conclusions about her father. She will also draw her own conclusions about me. I will do everything in my power to model of life of integrity, to lead us both to joy, to be a pillar of strength, to create a beautiful life for myself and for her....but I will not have the proof of my decisions, good or bad, for many years.
I believe, in head and heart, that I am doing the right thing ultimately for her as well as myself.
But please don't mind if I cry myself to sleep tonight.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Taking a breath
This weekend, I will have a chance to catch my breath.
Today, I will do my utmost to hit some work deadlines (or have to catch up on the weekend), and then I will run for the bus home, then jump in the car to pick up Katherine from a friend's house where she's having an after school playdate, and then go to friends' home for dinner.
These are good friends, they know me, they understand me, and they will let me put my feet up on their sofa as our daughters play and they will offer me wine and let me cry a bit if I need to, but more likely they will make me laugh.
And in this way, I will make it until bedtime, and then I can collapse.
I wasn't expecting this level of fatigue. Some of it is physical - I really am on duty ALL THE TIME, as my beloved daughter can't seem to fall asleep before 9:30pm and I have lights out at 10, so from the moment I rise to the moment I go to bed, I'm a whirling dervish of activity. Household cares, feeding us, taking care of the pets, much work. In that brief half hour when she's asleep, I run around tidying, getting ready for the next day. Or I try to read, and feel guilty the whole time because of the things being left undone.
I've screwed up twice this week, and I'm ashamed. I forgot Katherine's piano lesson last night. I could blame it on the long weekend - oh no, it's not Wednesday, it's Thursday! - but it's really because I'm not thinking straight. And then I was pleased with myself because I remembered the big school event and prepared Katherine for it, but on the bus on the way to work I saw a friend's Facebook post about crazy hair day.
Katherine's hair is neatly brushed today. It is not crazy. This will make her sad. Like me, she likes to celebrate every little thing, to get into things, and she will be at school with un-crazy hair.
For some reason this made me want to vomit.
There is no time to vomit. I will remain proud that I served a meal, at the table, that included vegetables, last night. That we called both sets of grandparents. That homework was completed. That I read a chapter of her book to her. That I did not crawl into bed in my clothes and tell her to go away I was too tired to do anything. That I got up and made her breakfast, packed a lunch, saw her off to school with a hug and an "I love you." That I made it to work where, after I hit "publish", I will bust my rear end all day.
But this weekend, I just need to be quiet, to do nothing, and somehow get a bit caught up, too. Hopefully Bryan and Katherine will be having a good time, but I'm just going to try to regroup, so that on Monday I can do it all over again, but maybe without losing my mind.
I've been doing this for a while now. I think I'm terrified of the impact that Bryan's move will have on Katherine, that I'm terrified about money, that I'm terrified that I'm falling too far behind on everything and will never be able to catch up. It's all catching up to me. Maybe this weekend I can make it better. Maybe.
Happy Friday, dear readers. If you'd like to vent in the comments about your own lives, it would make me feel less alone, and maybe release some of your own tension, too.
Today, I will do my utmost to hit some work deadlines (or have to catch up on the weekend), and then I will run for the bus home, then jump in the car to pick up Katherine from a friend's house where she's having an after school playdate, and then go to friends' home for dinner.
These are good friends, they know me, they understand me, and they will let me put my feet up on their sofa as our daughters play and they will offer me wine and let me cry a bit if I need to, but more likely they will make me laugh.
And in this way, I will make it until bedtime, and then I can collapse.
I wasn't expecting this level of fatigue. Some of it is physical - I really am on duty ALL THE TIME, as my beloved daughter can't seem to fall asleep before 9:30pm and I have lights out at 10, so from the moment I rise to the moment I go to bed, I'm a whirling dervish of activity. Household cares, feeding us, taking care of the pets, much work. In that brief half hour when she's asleep, I run around tidying, getting ready for the next day. Or I try to read, and feel guilty the whole time because of the things being left undone.
I've screwed up twice this week, and I'm ashamed. I forgot Katherine's piano lesson last night. I could blame it on the long weekend - oh no, it's not Wednesday, it's Thursday! - but it's really because I'm not thinking straight. And then I was pleased with myself because I remembered the big school event and prepared Katherine for it, but on the bus on the way to work I saw a friend's Facebook post about crazy hair day.
Katherine's hair is neatly brushed today. It is not crazy. This will make her sad. Like me, she likes to celebrate every little thing, to get into things, and she will be at school with un-crazy hair.
For some reason this made me want to vomit.
There is no time to vomit. I will remain proud that I served a meal, at the table, that included vegetables, last night. That we called both sets of grandparents. That homework was completed. That I read a chapter of her book to her. That I did not crawl into bed in my clothes and tell her to go away I was too tired to do anything. That I got up and made her breakfast, packed a lunch, saw her off to school with a hug and an "I love you." That I made it to work where, after I hit "publish", I will bust my rear end all day.
But this weekend, I just need to be quiet, to do nothing, and somehow get a bit caught up, too. Hopefully Bryan and Katherine will be having a good time, but I'm just going to try to regroup, so that on Monday I can do it all over again, but maybe without losing my mind.
I've been doing this for a while now. I think I'm terrified of the impact that Bryan's move will have on Katherine, that I'm terrified about money, that I'm terrified that I'm falling too far behind on everything and will never be able to catch up. It's all catching up to me. Maybe this weekend I can make it better. Maybe.
Happy Friday, dear readers. If you'd like to vent in the comments about your own lives, it would make me feel less alone, and maybe release some of your own tension, too.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Adult bullying, aka High Drama Communication
Lately I've found myself in the middle of some neighbor drama involving trees. My neighbor wants me to cut some trees in the parking strip down, and I don't want to. Still, I said that I would look into the laws, do some research on what types of trees they were and what threat to the sewer line they may or may not pose, and get back to him.
Though I've contacted the authorities in charge of parking strip trees (they told me I would not get a permit to remove the trees; the trees belong to the city and do not meet the qualifications for removal) and shared that information with him, he's not satisfied. He's yelled at me, he has ranted in my face as I said, "I'd like to be neighborly and do the right thing; let's work together on this..." and then he got so mad that he actually took a hatchet to one of the trees. (According to the authorities, this is criminal trespass, and I should have called 911. I didn't, but had to send a scolding email saying, "If you do this again you leave me no choice but to call 911...")
Wowza.
In addition to rocketing my blood pressure, making me check the real estate listings (no, I'm not going to move, but it is tempting), and making me wonder if my neighbor is actually insane, this has gotten me thinking about communication and drama, and how some people communicate in such high drama that they guarantee their own failure.
He made it sure that he would fail. He guaranteed that I am no longer inclined to view him as a reasonable person, and that we are now set up as adversaries. No matter what happens with the trees, he has failed. No more watching his cat while they're away, no more borrowing an egg, no more nice exchanges on the sidewalk. And needless to say, it feels a lot chillier in the neighborhood now. Even if I find out I *have* to remove the trees because of some city ordinance (unlikely), ultimately, he has a loss where none was necessary.
The funny thing is, I think my neighbor wants me to think he's smart and reasonable. Based on this behavior, I (ahem) don't see him that way. . . and I'm much less inclined to treat him that way.
So, if you want to create high drama communication, here's what you do:
1. Yell a lot.
2. Lay down absolutes.
3. When someone else talks, talk over them.
4. When someone gives an alternate viewpoint, tell them that they're ridiculous.
5. When someone says, "I'd like to reach a consensus we can both live with," say "It's my way or the highway!"
If you do this, and your bullying tactics work, you will get what you want, although you won't make friends. But if your bullying tactics don't work, you set yourself up for some pretty brutal fireworks.
I think that this is what happens in divorce all the time. One party lays down the gauntlet, angry and loud, and the situation turns from one in which perhaps both parties can get what they need, and changes into something where there are going to be winners and losers, or maybe just losers.
I know a story about a toaster that ended up costing $10,000 in legal fees. Long story short, a divorcing couple (I'm friends with one of them) got into an argument about their toaster as they split assets. One got the toaster, one didn't. And then it was time for the one who didn't get it to make toast for her kid, and she couldn't, and so she got mad, and she communicated her anger by breaking into the ex's house and stealing back the toaster with a few choice words. He was so angry with this method that he froze her bank accounts.....and high drama ensued. I think it's fair to say they both lost....big time.
Now, I don't know what would have happened if she'd called him and said, "Our child likes toast in the morning and I would like the toaster back please," or if she said, "I really need a toaster, so I'm going to Target where I will spend $15 and buy a brand new one and I'm making that a line item in our settlement," or if she made her kid a smoothie in the blender she got instead, but in any case, I doubt that it would have cost $10,000 in legal fees. But yes, she sure showed him, and she got that toaster.
I'd like to believe I'm smarter than that. Sure, I get mighty angry sometimes, but in the end, I want to be happy. $10,000 in legal fees to get a toaster would most definitely make me very, very, very unhappy, and I think it's fair to say that I'd rather give a total stranger or my worst enemy my toaster rather than run up that many fees to protect it. And I don't want to yell back at my neighbor because I believe that when I take the high road, maybe I'll feel better about my life, and maybe I won't bring out his need to hatchet anything else, and that trumps the idea of the (rather satisfying in theory) idea of calling him a lunatic to his face.
I don't want to fight over toasters, or trees. Actually, I don't want to fight at all. I want to behave like adults. Of course, sometimes the drama is brought in by another party (a neighbor, an ex) and then we're stuck with the drama that they bring to the party. In my case, I'm hoping that bringing in an impartial third party such as a mediator with the ex, and the city authorities over the trees, will bring some peace to the situations, and keep the drama to a minimum. Still, I'm at the mercy of others' mood swings, and sometimes all of the reasonable behavior in the world can't make a high drama bully stop.
What to do?
So, my questions for my readers:
- Why is it that some people communicate in such a way as to escalate drama? If you could help me figure this one out, I'd be pretty appreciative. And if you can explain how to de-escalate their drama-inducing-communication, you should write a book, or at least a pamphlet, for wide distribution.
- How do you manage high drama situations?
- How do you take the high road when someone is creating high drama communication?
- How do you avoid drama without agreeing to it?
- And just for fun - what are your high drama communication stories? When did your ex create havoc where it was unnecessary, just because they clearly were acting like a bully-lunatic? Vent away. :-)
Though I've contacted the authorities in charge of parking strip trees (they told me I would not get a permit to remove the trees; the trees belong to the city and do not meet the qualifications for removal) and shared that information with him, he's not satisfied. He's yelled at me, he has ranted in my face as I said, "I'd like to be neighborly and do the right thing; let's work together on this..." and then he got so mad that he actually took a hatchet to one of the trees. (According to the authorities, this is criminal trespass, and I should have called 911. I didn't, but had to send a scolding email saying, "If you do this again you leave me no choice but to call 911...")
Wowza.
In addition to rocketing my blood pressure, making me check the real estate listings (no, I'm not going to move, but it is tempting), and making me wonder if my neighbor is actually insane, this has gotten me thinking about communication and drama, and how some people communicate in such high drama that they guarantee their own failure.
He made it sure that he would fail. He guaranteed that I am no longer inclined to view him as a reasonable person, and that we are now set up as adversaries. No matter what happens with the trees, he has failed. No more watching his cat while they're away, no more borrowing an egg, no more nice exchanges on the sidewalk. And needless to say, it feels a lot chillier in the neighborhood now. Even if I find out I *have* to remove the trees because of some city ordinance (unlikely), ultimately, he has a loss where none was necessary.
The funny thing is, I think my neighbor wants me to think he's smart and reasonable. Based on this behavior, I (ahem) don't see him that way. . . and I'm much less inclined to treat him that way.
So, if you want to create high drama communication, here's what you do:
1. Yell a lot.
2. Lay down absolutes.
3. When someone else talks, talk over them.
4. When someone gives an alternate viewpoint, tell them that they're ridiculous.
5. When someone says, "I'd like to reach a consensus we can both live with," say "It's my way or the highway!"
If you do this, and your bullying tactics work, you will get what you want, although you won't make friends. But if your bullying tactics don't work, you set yourself up for some pretty brutal fireworks.
I think that this is what happens in divorce all the time. One party lays down the gauntlet, angry and loud, and the situation turns from one in which perhaps both parties can get what they need, and changes into something where there are going to be winners and losers, or maybe just losers.
I know a story about a toaster that ended up costing $10,000 in legal fees. Long story short, a divorcing couple (I'm friends with one of them) got into an argument about their toaster as they split assets. One got the toaster, one didn't. And then it was time for the one who didn't get it to make toast for her kid, and she couldn't, and so she got mad, and she communicated her anger by breaking into the ex's house and stealing back the toaster with a few choice words. He was so angry with this method that he froze her bank accounts.....and high drama ensued. I think it's fair to say they both lost....big time.
Now, I don't know what would have happened if she'd called him and said, "Our child likes toast in the morning and I would like the toaster back please," or if she said, "I really need a toaster, so I'm going to Target where I will spend $15 and buy a brand new one and I'm making that a line item in our settlement," or if she made her kid a smoothie in the blender she got instead, but in any case, I doubt that it would have cost $10,000 in legal fees. But yes, she sure showed him, and she got that toaster.
I'd like to believe I'm smarter than that. Sure, I get mighty angry sometimes, but in the end, I want to be happy. $10,000 in legal fees to get a toaster would most definitely make me very, very, very unhappy, and I think it's fair to say that I'd rather give a total stranger or my worst enemy my toaster rather than run up that many fees to protect it. And I don't want to yell back at my neighbor because I believe that when I take the high road, maybe I'll feel better about my life, and maybe I won't bring out his need to hatchet anything else, and that trumps the idea of the (rather satisfying in theory) idea of calling him a lunatic to his face.
I don't want to fight over toasters, or trees. Actually, I don't want to fight at all. I want to behave like adults. Of course, sometimes the drama is brought in by another party (a neighbor, an ex) and then we're stuck with the drama that they bring to the party. In my case, I'm hoping that bringing in an impartial third party such as a mediator with the ex, and the city authorities over the trees, will bring some peace to the situations, and keep the drama to a minimum. Still, I'm at the mercy of others' mood swings, and sometimes all of the reasonable behavior in the world can't make a high drama bully stop.
What to do?
So, my questions for my readers:
- Why is it that some people communicate in such a way as to escalate drama? If you could help me figure this one out, I'd be pretty appreciative. And if you can explain how to de-escalate their drama-inducing-communication, you should write a book, or at least a pamphlet, for wide distribution.
- How do you manage high drama situations?
- How do you take the high road when someone is creating high drama communication?
- How do you avoid drama without agreeing to it?
- And just for fun - what are your high drama communication stories? When did your ex create havoc where it was unnecessary, just because they clearly were acting like a bully-lunatic? Vent away. :-)
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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