Topic: What Is My Part?
I spent the first five months of 2010 writing a blog entitled "Saying Goodbye to You". In it I was preparing myself for the horrors of losing my husband to pancreatic cancer and just plain old losing my husband of 22 years. Prior to getting married, we had dated off and on for four years, so really our relationship had lasted 26 years. Most of the time we had been together as a couple but we had had a few break-ups during which I would try my hand at dating, not exactly a favorite pasttime. I have never enjoyed dating, especially first dates, and am clumsy at it at best.
I would be duplicitious if I omitted the part about my biological clock. It was ticking loudly back then. I wanted to have a child. I couldn't imagine ending my life without offspring. Like most women, I felt I had strong maternal instincts. I also wanted a family. I wanted togetherness, I wanted to feel loved, I wanted the unity, commitment and dedication that come with having a family. At the end of my first marriage we had started trying to conceive. That attempt had opened my eyes to the fact that I didn't see a future as a family with my first husband, that he had a horrible chip on his shoulder and felt comfortable with it---he loved his chip. After all, he had inherited it from his father with pride. There was no way I wanted any child of mine to grow up thinking all people were out to get him or put him down. That was just crazy. By the time 1988 rolled around, changing husbands had become a time-consuming effort. And I felt my time was running out. What this amounted to was me being in a hurry to find a new mate and have a family. I didn't feel like I was in a position to be too picky, and I thought I loved Bill. In fact, I thought he was the love of my life. At the time, I didn't think I was 'settling'. Where the truth is-----I don't know. But this I know has to happen now: I have to discover what it is I have done wrong, what it is I want for myself, what I will tolerate, and what are 'deal-breakers'. I have been told to make a list.
Before I can make that list, I must understand myself. What is it about me that has contributed to the demise of two marriages? If I blame it all on my exes, if I absolve myself of all responsibility, I will not improve. I will make the same mistakes over again. I vow to dig and to dig deep.
What are the commonalities between the two marriages? In both cases there was some emotional imbalance. What attracted me to two men with mental/emotional problems? Did I mistake depression for introspection? Did I think these were guys with the ability to be in touch with their feelings when in fact they were suffering from depression? Check! I think it would be in my best interest to say 'yes' to that.
Next, and extemely importantly, assertiveness. Mom taught me never to ask/demand anything from a man. When I was a little girl she said that when I grew up, men would be beating down the door for me. I thought it was a sweet comment but I didn't believe her. She, my aunt and my grandmother, the backbones of their families, all said we women just needed to be loved and taken care of. My aunt and my grandmother were taken care of by their spouses. My grandfather met my grandmother's every whim. My aunt's husband adored her, made a lot of money, and took extremely good care of her until the day she died. But while saying I would be taken care of out of one side of her mouth, out of the other side Mom was saying to take whatever a man dished out. My mom was the antitheses of the American woman everyone says marries a man and then sets out to change him. She was more of the variety that married a man, took his friends as hers, his interests as hers, then realized what she got was not working out for her, and instead of trying to change her man, she became resentful of his shortcomings. She felt unempowered to change her circumstances to be more acceptable to her. She would make unflattering comments about her husband but never when he was around. It was as if she was hopeless to change whatever dissatisfied her in her marriages, so she saw resentment as her only recourse. I went through a terribly awkwardly unattractive period from eighth to tenth grades. During that time there was no one knocking on the door let alone beating it down. After the metamorphosis of getting my braces off, getting contact lenses, and discovering hair-straightening products, I came into my own, and I became attractive to boys. When I would get angry or demanding of a boyfriend, Mom would tell me I was wrong, that the boy was too nice for me, and that I didn't deserve him. Put this all together and what message did I get? When you marry, take what is dished out. If you don't like it, you are in no position to change him, so you can be resentful and backbite. That kind of betrayal was permissable. I entered both marriages believing that my husband would take care of me, support a family, 'provide' for me. I thought we shared those common values. In both instances, I was willing to work and help support us on a temporary basis while they finished school or did whatever was needed to establish themselves so that I could later quit my job and raise a family while he 'took care' of us. When my husband made a request, a rule, a comment, I took it in. I acquiesced. I wanted to be that wife my mother had led me to believe I should be. It worked for a while, but then things started to deteriorate. I would realize I couldn't handle what was being dished out and I withdrew. Things weren't going according to plan and I both times I was looking at being the major financial family support. I got resentful and felt powerless. I started seeing my husband as strange, unacceptable, and a social embarrassment. As I withdrew, both times my husbands made power plays. They sensed the distance I had created and tried to get me under their control again: We couldn't do one thing, we couldn't socialize with so-and-so, this or that thing had to be changed. Or,as in this most recent case,there was passive/aggressive behavior that resulted in damage that couldn't be undone. Bill would go out and gamble on the sly. Money that was lost could not be retrieved. You can't go knocking on a casino door and explain to them that the money that your husband lost was a 'mistake' and they should give it back to you. Then, in the final days, I would detach. I saw myself as a completely separate entity, and at times I lived an unrelated and parallel lif: go to work, take care of your business, have your own friends, take your own vacations, eat meals separately. That's how I coped with the unravelling relationship. From my mother's messages, I saw this as the only way I could resolve marital problems and my unhappiness. It was survival mode for me. So here's my part: put up with things that become incrementally more unacceptable, can't feel I can express my own wishes, withdraw from my spouse who begins to look more and more odd and demanding all the time, detach and live a parallel life, and finally throw in the towel.
I have spent much of my life looking for others who had successful marriages. And, sadly, I have found few. I recently asked a friend if he knew anyone who had a successful marriage, and he came up with a whole list. I have never been able to, and I wonder if I ever really had criteria for determining what constitutes a happy marriage. This topic leaves me in a complete fog.
When Bill was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, I was already out of love with him. However,I was committed to him. I honored my vows to be a devoted wife to him. But in my heart I felt he had betrayed me too many times to love him the way I had loved him on our wedding day. He wasn't a team player, he had bipolar disorder, he had not only NOT passed the Bar exam and become a lawyer but had spent months out of work 'studying' for the Bar only to go to the first day of the exam and skip the next two because he felt he just wasn't going to pass. This and many other times when we had made big family sacrifices for an endeavor of his, were examples of him not really trying in the marriage. When Laura was a baby we had decided to get life insurance policies on ourselves. It was at that time we discovered that Bill had dangerously high cholesterol. Life insurance for him was prohibitive. We paid for one for a while, but later only I carried a policy. He later developed clogged arteries followed by an angioplasty and, in time, a triple bypass. He had plantar fascitis, type 2 diabetes and, of course, cancer. His health didn't help him be a teamplayer in supporting our household. Then there was the chronic 'sacroiliac' complaints. He couldn't help out with one thing or another because of his sacroiliac. But he could somehow sit at a poker table for hours on end or go out in the mountains and the desert in all kinds of weather with the dogs. But when someone else needed help, his 'sacroiliac' would make him unable to pitch in. And so it went. The theme in the family became one of Bill doing whatever he wanted and me feeling like I had to fill in all the gaps and pick up all the slack. If I hadn't been my mother's daughter maybe I would have seen the points at which I should have said, "Do your share! You will need to get and a job and give X dollars a month to me to run this household. No, you may not buy this or that." Maybe Bill needed a ball-breaking, no-nonsense type of woman to set him straight. Whatever it was he needed, I wasn't it. I was a pushover. I was no match for his cunning and his will.
So far, I have hurried choice and lack of assertiveness. Then poor communication and withdrawing. That's four things. That's a lot to work on. I'm sure there are more.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Ruminations on 2010 Part 3
Topic: My Relationships with Others
Since my teens, I have had an excellent relationship with my father. He never liked children and had little patience for them. When I was in kindergarten, I didn't like going to school. My mother would let me stay home whenever I wanted. One day I told my father I wasn't going to school because I didn't want to. He asked me what I thought would happen if he didn't go to work because he didn't want to. That didn't register with me. He was trying to use logic with a five-year-old. Five-year-olds don't understand logic of that sort. My father didn't like me as a child---or anyone else for that matter----because he couldn't control me with his quiet logic. In fact, my memories of my dad when he was married to my mother, are those of a very critical man. There was virtually nothing Mom could do to please him. I remember one evening she was wearing nothing but an apron to try to initiate some kind of romance with him. But their relationship was unsalvageable. His interests had gone in another direction; he was playing for the other team. My mother was never able to regain his affections or his passion. The naked apron was an exercise in futility. He was in love with a man. They divorced by the time I was in third grade, and my dad picked up me and my sister every Thursday afternoon after school and took us out every other Saturday.
Later my mother and her new husband moved us to Northern California and our visits to our dad became less predictable. But when we visited him in Los Angeles or he visited us in Marin, our time was action-packed. We could always count on a great time with him. We never visited him and had a dull time. For this, I was always grateful because our mother had two small children at home, and life was hum-drum.
I can remember the day my father started liking me. I had to explain something to him. I did it in a very logical and matter-of-fact manner. And I saw a new appreciation for me in his eyes. I had finally become a person with whom he could relate. From that moment on, he and I could always talk. Even when I was a stupid college student, calling him during office hours to complain about my stupid boyfriend, he would sit and talk to me. Even though he undoubtedly had patients waiting for him in those little exam rooms, he would talk to me until I had let out all my adolescent angst. For the next several decades, we talked as friends. When I felt like a complete failure, he was my biggest supporter. I can remember him telling me time after time that he believed I could learn anything I put my mind to. The vote of confidence was huge in getting me through the 'difficult' years, the years when I didn't know who I was or what I would become----or what I was capable of becoming. We had classical music and quiet logical thinking in common. He excused my poor taste in men and husbands. I was, in his eyes, brilliant and capable of anything.
The man who had been so unhappy with my mother had disappeared. In his place was a man who lived life the way he liked, who worked hard, valued education,kept an impeccably clean home, watched his weight---and everyone else's---with an eagle eye, and took careful charge of his money. His choice in men wasn't much better than mine. During his forties, fifties and sixties---and even into his seventies----my dad was a happy and supportive part of my life. On the QT, I heard that he thought my first husband was an excellent choice and my second an overgrown surfer. He and I had time together at the opera and 'visits' on occasion. On our 'visits' we would talk about virtually anything. He was enormously proud that I was bilingual and that I had chosen to put my professional efforts into working with underprivileged children. For years I taught in bilingual programs, believing in the philosophy that if you taught a child in his primary language, the second language would come more easily, a concept based on theories of basic interpersonal communication versus conceptually academic language proficiency. It was a type of education that had plenty of foes, especially people who were knee-jerk reacting to the term 'bilingual education' without any knowledge of the body of research supporting it.
The time came when my dad really wasn't safe to live by himself. In the decade preceding this time, my husband's parents had both become infirmed and died, first his mom and then his dad. Upon realizing that we had been terribly naive in letting his father take care of his mother, Bill and I had been much more attentive to his dad during his last two years. Bill spent a few days a week at his dad's, arranged for care for him, even got a grad student to live in the house with him. Even though he had tremendous issues with his dad, Bill did the 'right thing', and I was proud of him. It was Bill who recognized that my dad's ability to take care of himself and live alone was waning. He had a caregiver come in during the days at first. Then he made sure that either he or I, or both of us, joined Dad for dinner every evening and stayed at his townhouse until he was safely in bed. Bill was right; Dad shouldn't have been alone. It was during this time, in the late spring of 2008, that Dad's walking reminded me of someone on the moving floors of a funhouse. His balance was shot. He was falling and it was only a matter of time until he took a header down the stairs, even though we had installed a stairlift. Dad was truly an accident waiting to happen.
In July we moved Dad to an assisted living facility down at the beach. Bill and I were completely in love with it. We couldn't wait to get old and move in ourselves. But Dad didn't like it, not from day 1. He didn't like being with all those 'old people'. "But Dad," I said, "you're one of them!" It didn't matter. Some people don't see themselves as old, and resent the constant reminders they see in the faces around them. Some people need the companionship of people of many ages. And Dad is apparently one of those people.
Within a couple of weeks we noticed two things: 1) Dad wasn't going to be staying there and 2)there was something terribly wrong with his health. He balanced was horrible, he was having memory and reality problems, and he felt like he had to go to the bathroom every ten minutes. We decided to move him in with us. He was delighted. In order to free us up from having to be Dad's companion at the assisted living facility and have time to get our house ready for him, we hired a caregiver to take care of him. Her name was Carmelita.
Dad had been committing malpractice on himself; he was seeing only a cardiologist for his care. He needed to see a urologist, a neurologist, a gerontologist, and a primary care physician. We started making appointments for him. Oh, my God!! Was he ever angry! How could we interfere with his medical care! He was a professional for God's sake! Wow, his back was really up. His boxers were bunched up. He had a cow. He was pissed. Too bad, we said. You're not taking care of yourself. He had a special kind of water on the brain, it turns out. He needed a shunt to relieve the pressure. This water on the brain mimics alzheimers. But before we could take care of that, he developed a huge infection and became septic. He had stopped using his prostate medication and his prostate had grown so that it blocked off his ureter. He had two liters of urine in him. No wonder he felt like he had to go to the bathroom all the time! It was in there; it couldn't get out. He was in the hospital for over a month. The night he came home, his first night living in our house, Bill barbecued steak. Dad choked on it and Bill had to use the Heimlich. Flying steak pieces......
Dad's first couple of months in our house were very sweet. We all paid lots of attention to him and he was sweet and appreciative. He had a catheter. Carmelita was here 24/7. It was a good time. A couple of months later Dad had a laser procedure done on his prostate and it fixed the enlarged prostate problem for good. He now has the bladder of a 30-year-old.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Since my teens, I have had an excellent relationship with my father. He never liked children and had little patience for them. When I was in kindergarten, I didn't like going to school. My mother would let me stay home whenever I wanted. One day I told my father I wasn't going to school because I didn't want to. He asked me what I thought would happen if he didn't go to work because he didn't want to. That didn't register with me. He was trying to use logic with a five-year-old. Five-year-olds don't understand logic of that sort. My father didn't like me as a child---or anyone else for that matter----because he couldn't control me with his quiet logic. In fact, my memories of my dad when he was married to my mother, are those of a very critical man. There was virtually nothing Mom could do to please him. I remember one evening she was wearing nothing but an apron to try to initiate some kind of romance with him. But their relationship was unsalvageable. His interests had gone in another direction; he was playing for the other team. My mother was never able to regain his affections or his passion. The naked apron was an exercise in futility. He was in love with a man. They divorced by the time I was in third grade, and my dad picked up me and my sister every Thursday afternoon after school and took us out every other Saturday.
Later my mother and her new husband moved us to Northern California and our visits to our dad became less predictable. But when we visited him in Los Angeles or he visited us in Marin, our time was action-packed. We could always count on a great time with him. We never visited him and had a dull time. For this, I was always grateful because our mother had two small children at home, and life was hum-drum.
I can remember the day my father started liking me. I had to explain something to him. I did it in a very logical and matter-of-fact manner. And I saw a new appreciation for me in his eyes. I had finally become a person with whom he could relate. From that moment on, he and I could always talk. Even when I was a stupid college student, calling him during office hours to complain about my stupid boyfriend, he would sit and talk to me. Even though he undoubtedly had patients waiting for him in those little exam rooms, he would talk to me until I had let out all my adolescent angst. For the next several decades, we talked as friends. When I felt like a complete failure, he was my biggest supporter. I can remember him telling me time after time that he believed I could learn anything I put my mind to. The vote of confidence was huge in getting me through the 'difficult' years, the years when I didn't know who I was or what I would become----or what I was capable of becoming. We had classical music and quiet logical thinking in common. He excused my poor taste in men and husbands. I was, in his eyes, brilliant and capable of anything.
The man who had been so unhappy with my mother had disappeared. In his place was a man who lived life the way he liked, who worked hard, valued education,kept an impeccably clean home, watched his weight---and everyone else's---with an eagle eye, and took careful charge of his money. His choice in men wasn't much better than mine. During his forties, fifties and sixties---and even into his seventies----my dad was a happy and supportive part of my life. On the QT, I heard that he thought my first husband was an excellent choice and my second an overgrown surfer. He and I had time together at the opera and 'visits' on occasion. On our 'visits' we would talk about virtually anything. He was enormously proud that I was bilingual and that I had chosen to put my professional efforts into working with underprivileged children. For years I taught in bilingual programs, believing in the philosophy that if you taught a child in his primary language, the second language would come more easily, a concept based on theories of basic interpersonal communication versus conceptually academic language proficiency. It was a type of education that had plenty of foes, especially people who were knee-jerk reacting to the term 'bilingual education' without any knowledge of the body of research supporting it.
The time came when my dad really wasn't safe to live by himself. In the decade preceding this time, my husband's parents had both become infirmed and died, first his mom and then his dad. Upon realizing that we had been terribly naive in letting his father take care of his mother, Bill and I had been much more attentive to his dad during his last two years. Bill spent a few days a week at his dad's, arranged for care for him, even got a grad student to live in the house with him. Even though he had tremendous issues with his dad, Bill did the 'right thing', and I was proud of him. It was Bill who recognized that my dad's ability to take care of himself and live alone was waning. He had a caregiver come in during the days at first. Then he made sure that either he or I, or both of us, joined Dad for dinner every evening and stayed at his townhouse until he was safely in bed. Bill was right; Dad shouldn't have been alone. It was during this time, in the late spring of 2008, that Dad's walking reminded me of someone on the moving floors of a funhouse. His balance was shot. He was falling and it was only a matter of time until he took a header down the stairs, even though we had installed a stairlift. Dad was truly an accident waiting to happen.
In July we moved Dad to an assisted living facility down at the beach. Bill and I were completely in love with it. We couldn't wait to get old and move in ourselves. But Dad didn't like it, not from day 1. He didn't like being with all those 'old people'. "But Dad," I said, "you're one of them!" It didn't matter. Some people don't see themselves as old, and resent the constant reminders they see in the faces around them. Some people need the companionship of people of many ages. And Dad is apparently one of those people.
Within a couple of weeks we noticed two things: 1) Dad wasn't going to be staying there and 2)there was something terribly wrong with his health. He balanced was horrible, he was having memory and reality problems, and he felt like he had to go to the bathroom every ten minutes. We decided to move him in with us. He was delighted. In order to free us up from having to be Dad's companion at the assisted living facility and have time to get our house ready for him, we hired a caregiver to take care of him. Her name was Carmelita.
Dad had been committing malpractice on himself; he was seeing only a cardiologist for his care. He needed to see a urologist, a neurologist, a gerontologist, and a primary care physician. We started making appointments for him. Oh, my God!! Was he ever angry! How could we interfere with his medical care! He was a professional for God's sake! Wow, his back was really up. His boxers were bunched up. He had a cow. He was pissed. Too bad, we said. You're not taking care of yourself. He had a special kind of water on the brain, it turns out. He needed a shunt to relieve the pressure. This water on the brain mimics alzheimers. But before we could take care of that, he developed a huge infection and became septic. He had stopped using his prostate medication and his prostate had grown so that it blocked off his ureter. He had two liters of urine in him. No wonder he felt like he had to go to the bathroom all the time! It was in there; it couldn't get out. He was in the hospital for over a month. The night he came home, his first night living in our house, Bill barbecued steak. Dad choked on it and Bill had to use the Heimlich. Flying steak pieces......
Dad's first couple of months in our house were very sweet. We all paid lots of attention to him and he was sweet and appreciative. He had a catheter. Carmelita was here 24/7. It was a good time. A couple of months later Dad had a laser procedure done on his prostate and it fixed the enlarged prostate problem for good. He now has the bladder of a 30-year-old.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Ruminations on 2010 Part 1
It seems fitting, as I sit here looking at the snow-covered Selkirks or Purcells of northern Idaho (we still aren't sure what they're called), the exact place I did last year at this time, that I reflect on 2010. It was a year to be remembered, no doubt. These ruminations will be posted in several installments, sort of topically but interrelated.
This year has been painful and tragic. It has broken my heart and I have faced challenges I never thought I would. I am in the midst of a divorce that I still don't understand. I have had lies lobbed at me in court documents. I have had to spend thousands and thousands of dollars defending myself, and I face the possibility of never being able to enjoy the retirement for which I have worked for the past thirty five years. I can do a 'phoenix rising from the ashes' thing. It's important. In that myth, the phoenix dies, becomes ashes and then returns from those ashes as it was before. The phoenix is a survivor. I have done it before; I am a survivor. I appreciate this quality in myself, it is a blessing for which I feel grateful. May it never be said that I am not a grateful person. But if I return from this year as the person I was before, will I be the same? Will I make the same mistakes? Will I have the same frailties? Will I move forward, improve my life, become a better version of the person I was before? And, most importantly, will I become more pleasing in God's eyes? I believe God is NOT unhappy with me. I know He loves me. That's not my point. God loves me and accepts me for who I am. But if He is my Lord, he is also my leader. If He is my leader, what am I doing to better follow Him? Hence my previous statement: Will I become more pleasing in God's eyes? Will the person who emerges from this marriage, this divorce, be a better one? Will she give more of herself to others? Will she do her job in a more giving way than before? Will she work to the betterment of her community (any of the communities of which she is a member)? Will she turn her cheek in the face of insults, stow her ego, be the example God wants her to be in the face of adversity, fatigue, greed, temptation? This brings me to the topic of this paragraph----sorry Mr. Cunningham for not starting this paragraph with it. (Welcome to my world. They don't call me 'Sidetrack Sally' for nothin'. But I do eventually get around to it.) How will I be better after this 'trial' is over?
My life has been driven lately by Proverbs 16:7 "When a man's ways are pleasing to the Lord, he makes even his enemies live at peace with him." What I like about this is the lack of capital letters on the words 'he'. It isn't God who makes the enemies live at peace with the man, it's the man himself. It represents to me the power and change that happens when someone internalizes God's ways. For if a person is truly led by God, if one is led by Christian principles, his behaviors transcend those of this world and separate from the realm of basic human interactions. Is this divorce my opportunity to see how I am being led by my faith? Will I stoop to dirty tricks, deceit, greed? Will I behave by God's standards and obey Caesar's law at the same time? Will my priorities be in sync with God's?
This year has been painful and tragic. It has broken my heart and I have faced challenges I never thought I would. I am in the midst of a divorce that I still don't understand. I have had lies lobbed at me in court documents. I have had to spend thousands and thousands of dollars defending myself, and I face the possibility of never being able to enjoy the retirement for which I have worked for the past thirty five years. I can do a 'phoenix rising from the ashes' thing. It's important. In that myth, the phoenix dies, becomes ashes and then returns from those ashes as it was before. The phoenix is a survivor. I have done it before; I am a survivor. I appreciate this quality in myself, it is a blessing for which I feel grateful. May it never be said that I am not a grateful person. But if I return from this year as the person I was before, will I be the same? Will I make the same mistakes? Will I have the same frailties? Will I move forward, improve my life, become a better version of the person I was before? And, most importantly, will I become more pleasing in God's eyes? I believe God is NOT unhappy with me. I know He loves me. That's not my point. God loves me and accepts me for who I am. But if He is my Lord, he is also my leader. If He is my leader, what am I doing to better follow Him? Hence my previous statement: Will I become more pleasing in God's eyes? Will the person who emerges from this marriage, this divorce, be a better one? Will she give more of herself to others? Will she do her job in a more giving way than before? Will she work to the betterment of her community (any of the communities of which she is a member)? Will she turn her cheek in the face of insults, stow her ego, be the example God wants her to be in the face of adversity, fatigue, greed, temptation? This brings me to the topic of this paragraph----sorry Mr. Cunningham for not starting this paragraph with it. (Welcome to my world. They don't call me 'Sidetrack Sally' for nothin'. But I do eventually get around to it.) How will I be better after this 'trial' is over?
My life has been driven lately by Proverbs 16:7 "When a man's ways are pleasing to the Lord, he makes even his enemies live at peace with him." What I like about this is the lack of capital letters on the words 'he'. It isn't God who makes the enemies live at peace with the man, it's the man himself. It represents to me the power and change that happens when someone internalizes God's ways. For if a person is truly led by God, if one is led by Christian principles, his behaviors transcend those of this world and separate from the realm of basic human interactions. Is this divorce my opportunity to see how I am being led by my faith? Will I stoop to dirty tricks, deceit, greed? Will I behave by God's standards and obey Caesar's law at the same time? Will my priorities be in sync with God's?
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Didya Know????
Did ya know it costs about $35 to get married at City Hall, $350 to file for divorce and $35,000 to pay attorneys to get a settlement? What's wrong with this picture? I contend that our society has blinders on when it comes to marriage and its dissolution. We live in an age---if not a society as a whole-----where marriage suffers greatly from the 'Disney Effect'. Now there's a good title for a book.
What's the Disney Effect (besides a term I just made up)? It's the notion that weddings are grand events and magical moments. And no matter how difficult it was for that couple to get to the point where they walked down the aisle and said their 'I do's', they will, once those 'I do's' are said, live happily ever after. End of movie. No more to discuss. Maybe Walt Disney should have had a Dr. Phil consulting during his movie productions. I contend it was almost reckless of Disney to turn off the cameras (I know these were animated films but how can I describe this?) when he did. Take your vows, and THEN life begins. That is the point when life yells, "Action!" Not, "Cut and print!"
We get our marriage licenses with stars in our eyes. We think we are going to live happily ever after. In so many instances, we don't. I, for one, am a good example of that. I have been married twice. Both times I walked down the aisle as a woman who was incredibly in love. Both times I had stars in my eyes and absolutely no inkling the marriage wouldn't last the rest of my life. Both times I thought I was marrying my soulmate, my best friend, my partner for life. There are absolutely volumes on wedding planning. There are TV shows about sumptuous weddings, bridal gowns costing well into the five figures, destination weddings, and brides competing to see who throws the 'best' wedding bash. Where is the movie that tells you how hard marriage can be? Where is the book that illustrates the beauty of sticking it out, and when to bail out? Where is the handbook that tells us to be flexible? I don't discount the Bible; it's by far the best book ever written. It's God's big instruction book on life. But what it lacks (should I be so bold as to say the Bible LACKS something?) is the specificity on dealing with things like husbands who go into deep depressions and refuse to seek help. [I would bet large sums of money (which, unfortunately, I wouldn't actually be able to pay since I am going through a divorce) that my first husband still hasn't sought professional help for his ongoing and pernicious depressions.] Where is the tome that a starry-eyed spouse can consult when hisorher partner develops a condition that renders that partner unable to fully participate in a healthy marriage? What can a person consult when their spouse is diagnosed with bipolar disorder and she has a 3-year-old to raise? There were a smattering of books, and I read them, but no lifeline, no good answers.
What I am thinking now is that we have more-than-ample resources for planning a great wedding. Our resources for undoing the resulting marriage are limited to, basically, attorneys. Divorce is long, arduous, expensive, and foreign. The language, the approach, the paradigm is not something the average person is ready to tackle. At this point I think only a fool would try to undo a marriage without an attorney. A fancy wedding can cost more than a divorce. Is there a correlation between the cost of the wedding and the cost of that marriage's divorce? I don't think so. My last wedding was almost free of cost. My divorce isn't. And a word to the wise: Even if you think the marriage will last forever, you aren't necessarily the one who makes that decision. Your spouse can divorce you. Hang onto your paperwork. Remember how much you and your properties were worth when you said your 'I do's' because you get to subtract that from the grand total when you ---or your partner----decide to end it all.
What's the Disney Effect (besides a term I just made up)? It's the notion that weddings are grand events and magical moments. And no matter how difficult it was for that couple to get to the point where they walked down the aisle and said their 'I do's', they will, once those 'I do's' are said, live happily ever after. End of movie. No more to discuss. Maybe Walt Disney should have had a Dr. Phil consulting during his movie productions. I contend it was almost reckless of Disney to turn off the cameras (I know these were animated films but how can I describe this?) when he did. Take your vows, and THEN life begins. That is the point when life yells, "Action!" Not, "Cut and print!"
We get our marriage licenses with stars in our eyes. We think we are going to live happily ever after. In so many instances, we don't. I, for one, am a good example of that. I have been married twice. Both times I walked down the aisle as a woman who was incredibly in love. Both times I had stars in my eyes and absolutely no inkling the marriage wouldn't last the rest of my life. Both times I thought I was marrying my soulmate, my best friend, my partner for life. There are absolutely volumes on wedding planning. There are TV shows about sumptuous weddings, bridal gowns costing well into the five figures, destination weddings, and brides competing to see who throws the 'best' wedding bash. Where is the movie that tells you how hard marriage can be? Where is the book that illustrates the beauty of sticking it out, and when to bail out? Where is the handbook that tells us to be flexible? I don't discount the Bible; it's by far the best book ever written. It's God's big instruction book on life. But what it lacks (should I be so bold as to say the Bible LACKS something?) is the specificity on dealing with things like husbands who go into deep depressions and refuse to seek help. [I would bet large sums of money (which, unfortunately, I wouldn't actually be able to pay since I am going through a divorce) that my first husband still hasn't sought professional help for his ongoing and pernicious depressions.] Where is the tome that a starry-eyed spouse can consult when hisorher partner develops a condition that renders that partner unable to fully participate in a healthy marriage? What can a person consult when their spouse is diagnosed with bipolar disorder and she has a 3-year-old to raise? There were a smattering of books, and I read them, but no lifeline, no good answers.
What I am thinking now is that we have more-than-ample resources for planning a great wedding. Our resources for undoing the resulting marriage are limited to, basically, attorneys. Divorce is long, arduous, expensive, and foreign. The language, the approach, the paradigm is not something the average person is ready to tackle. At this point I think only a fool would try to undo a marriage without an attorney. A fancy wedding can cost more than a divorce. Is there a correlation between the cost of the wedding and the cost of that marriage's divorce? I don't think so. My last wedding was almost free of cost. My divorce isn't. And a word to the wise: Even if you think the marriage will last forever, you aren't necessarily the one who makes that decision. Your spouse can divorce you. Hang onto your paperwork. Remember how much you and your properties were worth when you said your 'I do's' because you get to subtract that from the grand total when you ---or your partner----decide to end it all.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Driving Me Home
The other night a friend offered me a ride home from Bible study. She is also my nutritionist. I think she's very, very good at what she does. When I have sat with her in her office while she talks about nutrition, I have enjoyed watching her face light up. She gets so excited about her work. The morning after Bill was diagnosed with cancer, he asked me if we could go see her. She spent the usual two hours or so with him, and talked and talked about what she knew. She does a lot of work with cancer patients, she's a friend of mine, and she wanted to help Bill. She also wanted to be a good witness to him.
As we were driving the short two blocks to my house, we shared our plans for Thanksgiving. Then I started talking about Christmas, I told her how excited Laura and I were about not having to be 'closet' Christmas freaks this year. I told her how Bill used to deride me for getting all excited about baking and decorating, singing carols and whatnot. I told her he had been the Scrinch. That's right, take Grinch and Scrooge, put them together, and 'Voila!', you have the Scrinch, aka my ex-husband. Then she said something that caught me off-guard. She said, "He was abusive to everybody." "How did you know?" I asked. She said, "Because he was abusive to me too. He knows my policy about cancellations but he would miss appointments and expect me not to charge him. And he bombarded me with emails." In some ways that is abuse, especially when it goes on repeatedly. I call it taking advantage, which pretty much sums up a lot of our marriage.
As we were driving the short two blocks to my house, we shared our plans for Thanksgiving. Then I started talking about Christmas, I told her how excited Laura and I were about not having to be 'closet' Christmas freaks this year. I told her how Bill used to deride me for getting all excited about baking and decorating, singing carols and whatnot. I told her he had been the Scrinch. That's right, take Grinch and Scrooge, put them together, and 'Voila!', you have the Scrinch, aka my ex-husband. Then she said something that caught me off-guard. She said, "He was abusive to everybody." "How did you know?" I asked. She said, "Because he was abusive to me too. He knows my policy about cancellations but he would miss appointments and expect me not to charge him. And he bombarded me with emails." In some ways that is abuse, especially when it goes on repeatedly. I call it taking advantage, which pretty much sums up a lot of our marriage.
Court????
In August the judge scheduled a status update for tomorrow, December 2. I have not seen my ex since then. It's been a relief. I have become accustomed to my 'Bill-less' life. I don't want to see him again.
My attorney wanted to settle the wage assignment in court tomorrow. He thought it would be a good time for me, Bill and the two attorneys to take care of that paperwork and get my wages straightened out. After all, they paid Bill twice for October and told me I had to prove I'd paid him myself before they'd undo it. I called my attorney and told him to make it go away. But now Bill is unwilling to change the assignment and it would be a waste of time to go to court if I'm not going to be able to get that.
We've been back and forth on whether or not I'd be going to court. At this moment, it looks like I'm not going. But next Thursday Bill's attorney will take a deposition on me at his office out in Norwalk. I am not looking forward to it. My attorney and I will meet and strategize earlier in the week. I know I will need a strategy. His attorney comes across as a bumbling old guy with a cane but I have a feeling he might be sly like a fox.
My attorney wanted to settle the wage assignment in court tomorrow. He thought it would be a good time for me, Bill and the two attorneys to take care of that paperwork and get my wages straightened out. After all, they paid Bill twice for October and told me I had to prove I'd paid him myself before they'd undo it. I called my attorney and told him to make it go away. But now Bill is unwilling to change the assignment and it would be a waste of time to go to court if I'm not going to be able to get that.
We've been back and forth on whether or not I'd be going to court. At this moment, it looks like I'm not going. But next Thursday Bill's attorney will take a deposition on me at his office out in Norwalk. I am not looking forward to it. My attorney and I will meet and strategize earlier in the week. I know I will need a strategy. His attorney comes across as a bumbling old guy with a cane but I have a feeling he might be sly like a fox.
Limbo
The divorce has been on hiatus, or on the back burner, for some time now. I like the absence of drama and contentious interactions. I don't miss the bullying and taunting emails my attorney forwards to me from Bill. What I DO like is living my life free of another's demands and persnickety behavior. I don't miss the sense of always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the revelation of the latest treachery, for the next insult or instance of bad behavior. I am relieved that I don't have to protect my father from insults or mistreatment. Things could have ended up worse than they did. I am so thankful that it never got to the point where my father was the subject of any abuse, and am even more thankful that my restraining order also has my father named on it.
Since Thanksgiving came last week, I spent time thinking about all for which I am thankful, and the list is long. I am blessed. I am thankful. Even for the little innocuous things. I have most recently started saying that I love my life. And I really do. Do I like having to pay $2500 in spousal support? Do I like paying my attorney obscene sums of money? No. But the end result, my freedom, is priceless. Sorry to sound corny. My freedom is priceless. Whatever it costs me to have this, is worth it. I know people stay in unhappy relationships because they are afraid of the financial implications a divorce might bring. Let me just say----"Don't let that motivate you to stay." If you are fighting an uphill battle, if you feel like you don't know when the next curveball is coming, if you are living in a world where you can't feel comfortable, where your friends or family can't come in and put up their feet, then I feel sorry for you. I have discovered that nothing is more valuable than living a life where you feel you are doing the right thing, living life the way you feel it should be lived, unfettered by the capricious behavior and 'rules' of another, and laughing and enjoying yourself. There is no price tag on that. There is no material trapping that can replace that. I am not a huge advocate for divorce. But sometimes it is not only necessary, it opens the door to a life that is much better than the one you have been leading.
Since Thanksgiving came last week, I spent time thinking about all for which I am thankful, and the list is long. I am blessed. I am thankful. Even for the little innocuous things. I have most recently started saying that I love my life. And I really do. Do I like having to pay $2500 in spousal support? Do I like paying my attorney obscene sums of money? No. But the end result, my freedom, is priceless. Sorry to sound corny. My freedom is priceless. Whatever it costs me to have this, is worth it. I know people stay in unhappy relationships because they are afraid of the financial implications a divorce might bring. Let me just say----"Don't let that motivate you to stay." If you are fighting an uphill battle, if you feel like you don't know when the next curveball is coming, if you are living in a world where you can't feel comfortable, where your friends or family can't come in and put up their feet, then I feel sorry for you. I have discovered that nothing is more valuable than living a life where you feel you are doing the right thing, living life the way you feel it should be lived, unfettered by the capricious behavior and 'rules' of another, and laughing and enjoying yourself. There is no price tag on that. There is no material trapping that can replace that. I am not a huge advocate for divorce. But sometimes it is not only necessary, it opens the door to a life that is much better than the one you have been leading.
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