Will the lights upon my Christmas tree,
Reach the shadows found in me?
The promise of a Savior born,
Will that calm this inner storm?
Can a present tied with bows,
Heal the pain that no one knows?
A jolly elf dressed up in red,
Will he stop the voices in my head?
The ones who tell me to give in,
This battle is one I cannot win.
Can a star that's shining in the night,
Lead me out of darkness and into light?
Oh come, oh come, Emmanuel,
Come and save me, make me well.
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Friday, November 1, 2013
The Last Dance
Though the Marine Corps birthday is not until the tenth of this month, the Marine Corps Ball for the man's unit (stop sniggering) is tonight. It's an event that I very much looked forward to, my sole excuse over the years to dress in a beautiful dress and be on the arm of a man in uniform.
This is us at some of the ones over the years.
This is us at some of the ones over the years.
Happy, happy, happy.
So tonight the man is in his blues, and I am at home blogging out my feelings. He didn't invite me to the ball this year. No pumpkin turned into a coach, no fairy godmother changed my yoga pants for a ball gown, and no prince will dance with me until midnight. And he won't search for me when I leave either.
Cinderella is not at the castle. She's in a house of chaos trying not to puke up her dinner, or cry hysterically at the smallest provocation.
Actually, the tears have arrived. Or maybe they never really go away?
This is obviously not the sole responsibility of the man. If we hadn't been so back and forth, up and down, hot and cold, on and off then I might have rated an invitation to tonight's event. But to quote Alexander Rybak, "I'm in love with a fairy tale, even though it hurts."
I believe this is what I have done - imagined a fairy tale ending to all of this painful nonsense we have put ourselves through the last several years. Brick by boring brick I have built up my dream ending, where he comes after me, where I go to the ball, where we all live happily ever after.
But it was only just a dream.
I should get points for all the song quotes I'm integrating.
As I start to grow up (finally) I am realizing that life is in fact about the nonsense, not the fairy tale. This every day we struggle (sometimes) through, this is the real heart of the story, not the part where we all live happily ever after. No one ever said that's how it was going to be, and I can't for the life of me figure out why I've spent so much time waiting for that moment to come, that one where he realizes he can't do without me.
Now, I don't want you to think I'm unhappy with my life in general. I am not. I've found peace and joy in these circumstances, which I can only attribute to a loving God. It's just that I'm realizing that the outcome I want in the area of my marriage may not ever come to fruition in my timeline, or maybe even at all. Somehow, I have to learn to find peace and contentment with that too.
Or perhaps I need to change my dreams.
Either way, tonight I'm more aware of my need to break the glass slipper and bury the castle.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
The Wh*** of Washington
I took a pregnancy test last Thursday. It was positive.
I took another one last Friday. Still positive.
So I am pregnant with my third child by my husband. And I feel like I need to wear a scarlet letter.
I've made no secret of the fact that he and I are separated. Trying to work stuff out, but still separated. In fact, the weekend prior I pretty much told him I felt like the end of our marriage was inevitable - that I just was too tired to keep figuring him or myself out. We'd had a fight a couple of weeks ago and instead of talking through it we both kind of dissolved into a "name-calling, I know you are but what am I?"fest. However, a couple weeks prior to that (about a month ago) he and I had a great weekend together.
And one month later, here is the evidence of that weekend.
On Thursday the one thing that kept repeating in my head was that song that Tina Fey and Maya Rudolph sang a few years ago on SNL about their babies. The chorus was, "You're the proof that we've been doin' it. Your mom and dad have been doin' it."
Babies, in my opinion, are ALWAYS a blessing. Even ones I would consider to be "poorly timed." This child makes no difference in my marital status, unfortunately, just as my children who have been around a few years make no difference. For a fleeting moment, I thought perhaps it would. If I needed anymore convincing that there is nothing here on earth that will make a difference, I got it tonight after a hellish argument. I think I'll just leave it in God's hands and stop "trying" so hard. It's not doing one bit of good.
But I'm grateful for this child, my third reminder that God is in the business of blessing, even when we don't really deserve it. That thought makes a difference in my heart, tonight and for always. My children are a picture of His vast, unconditional love. And for that, I could never be sorry. I can only be thankful.
I took another one last Friday. Still positive.
So I am pregnant with my third child by my husband. And I feel like I need to wear a scarlet letter.
I've made no secret of the fact that he and I are separated. Trying to work stuff out, but still separated. In fact, the weekend prior I pretty much told him I felt like the end of our marriage was inevitable - that I just was too tired to keep figuring him or myself out. We'd had a fight a couple of weeks ago and instead of talking through it we both kind of dissolved into a "name-calling, I know you are but what am I?"fest. However, a couple weeks prior to that (about a month ago) he and I had a great weekend together.
And one month later, here is the evidence of that weekend.
On Thursday the one thing that kept repeating in my head was that song that Tina Fey and Maya Rudolph sang a few years ago on SNL about their babies. The chorus was, "You're the proof that we've been doin' it. Your mom and dad have been doin' it."
Babies, in my opinion, are ALWAYS a blessing. Even ones I would consider to be "poorly timed." This child makes no difference in my marital status, unfortunately, just as my children who have been around a few years make no difference. For a fleeting moment, I thought perhaps it would. If I needed anymore convincing that there is nothing here on earth that will make a difference, I got it tonight after a hellish argument. I think I'll just leave it in God's hands and stop "trying" so hard. It's not doing one bit of good.
But I'm grateful for this child, my third reminder that God is in the business of blessing, even when we don't really deserve it. That thought makes a difference in my heart, tonight and for always. My children are a picture of His vast, unconditional love. And for that, I could never be sorry. I can only be thankful.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
A Love Starved Woman
I received a pretty great compliment the other day, which made me fall instantly head over heels with the giver. They gave it unaware of how insignificant I've been feeling lately (in fact, they don't really know me, so that gave the compliment even more significance in my mind).
I'm reading a book called, "Made to Crave" which is focused on changing eating habits, but has lessons that could apply to any area of your life where you find yourself being consumed. Being more aware of my eating habits has yielded some unexpected results in other areas. I'm beginning to be more aware of other "cravings" I'm have in my life.
And I've discovered that what I crave most is validation.
"Think that I am significant. Think that what I do as a wife and mother is valuable to you." It's practically my mantra. It's like if I think it enough, I can project it on the one person who's validation I don't have, and yet want so badly. Like somehow by force of will I can make them see me as worthwhile.
As a Christian, I know that I need to find my validation in the Lord. Yes, He thinks I am valuable. Yes, He thinks that being a mother is a high calling. And God knows I'm trying to be the wife He wants me to be (and it's up in the air whether I'm failing miserably or not I guess).
Meanwhile, I need to remain aware of the danger in craving validation from other sources, and the temptation of compliments from strangers.
I'm reading a book called, "Made to Crave" which is focused on changing eating habits, but has lessons that could apply to any area of your life where you find yourself being consumed. Being more aware of my eating habits has yielded some unexpected results in other areas. I'm beginning to be more aware of other "cravings" I'm have in my life.
And I've discovered that what I crave most is validation.
"Think that I am significant. Think that what I do as a wife and mother is valuable to you." It's practically my mantra. It's like if I think it enough, I can project it on the one person who's validation I don't have, and yet want so badly. Like somehow by force of will I can make them see me as worthwhile.
As a Christian, I know that I need to find my validation in the Lord. Yes, He thinks I am valuable. Yes, He thinks that being a mother is a high calling. And God knows I'm trying to be the wife He wants me to be (and it's up in the air whether I'm failing miserably or not I guess).
Meanwhile, I need to remain aware of the danger in craving validation from other sources, and the temptation of compliments from strangers.
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Death in Two Ways
Last night I had a dream about Ducky. Those who know me know that Ducky was one of my very close friends for about twelve years. I'm not surprised she was in my dreams; I've been thinking about her and her family every single day since June 1st.
June is the month for birthdays, both among my family and my friends. Aunts, cousins, nephews, nieces, sister-in-laws, friends, my daughter and myself all share this month to celebrate our arrival on earth. But the last day of June, there is a birthday that I begin to think of the moment the calendar changes from May. It belongs to Ducky's brother, Scott.
Scott was, to me, a pretty special individual. I used to tell him he was like the younger brother I never had. And I treated him like a younger brother. I look back at our friendship and realize that most of it was me lecturing him and trying to get him to make changes to his life. He took it all in stride, and didn't change a thing until he was ready. I thought he was moving too slow, and I wanted him to go and be and do and learn and...and...and.
He was going to come and visit me in August of 2010. I remember that he called me on July 29th, and I didn't answer. I was slightly cross with him, because he wanted to fly to an airport that would require me to drive through 2 hours of traffic one way just to get to him, not to mention the traffic coming back. It would have been cheaper for him, but there was an airport ten minutes from my house and I couldn't understand why he wouldn't just fly in to that one. I didn't feel like having the conversation about it. I have no idea why. In retrospect, what a petty thing to be upset about.
I didn't know it then, but that phone call was my last chance to speak with him. On August 1st, he was killed in a car accident.
It was after his death that I came to realize that Scott was one of the few individuals who took me exactly as I was, self-important lecturing and all, and loved me anyway. He never tried to change a thing about me. The loss of him in my life has been immeasurable. I think about him almost every day. His name is tattooed in a cross on my arm, a celtic cross because that's one of the tattoos he wanted. I grieved with his family, knowing that as deeply as I felt his loss that is was not comparable to his flesh and blood.
Two years after his death, I experienced a loss of a different kind; it was the death of my friendship with Ducky.
Ducky and I had been through so much together, that I thought we had a completely unshakeable foundation. We'd known each other since we were sixteen. We had seen each other through countless ups and downs, twists and turns, joy and pain, happiness and unfathomable sadness. She was closer to me than a sister. I could not imagine my life without her.
Until one day, I could.
Just what happened, I won't say. But while Scott's death was completely out of my control, losing Ducky as a friend was entirely up to me. It weighs on me sometimes, despite how "right" I felt I was being, because losing her friendship meant losing her family, whom I also dearly, dearly loved.
And so on the eve of Scott's birthday, I think of how often I take people for granted. It never once occurred to me that Scott wouldn't be around, just as it never occurred to me that Ducky and I wouldn't make it for the long haul.
I don't always treat people close to me with as much appreciation as I truly feel toward them. I want to learn to love others with more purpose, and be grateful for the time I have with the ones God has put in my life.
Because life changes too fast not to.
June is the month for birthdays, both among my family and my friends. Aunts, cousins, nephews, nieces, sister-in-laws, friends, my daughter and myself all share this month to celebrate our arrival on earth. But the last day of June, there is a birthday that I begin to think of the moment the calendar changes from May. It belongs to Ducky's brother, Scott.
Scott was, to me, a pretty special individual. I used to tell him he was like the younger brother I never had. And I treated him like a younger brother. I look back at our friendship and realize that most of it was me lecturing him and trying to get him to make changes to his life. He took it all in stride, and didn't change a thing until he was ready. I thought he was moving too slow, and I wanted him to go and be and do and learn and...and...and.
He was going to come and visit me in August of 2010. I remember that he called me on July 29th, and I didn't answer. I was slightly cross with him, because he wanted to fly to an airport that would require me to drive through 2 hours of traffic one way just to get to him, not to mention the traffic coming back. It would have been cheaper for him, but there was an airport ten minutes from my house and I couldn't understand why he wouldn't just fly in to that one. I didn't feel like having the conversation about it. I have no idea why. In retrospect, what a petty thing to be upset about.
I didn't know it then, but that phone call was my last chance to speak with him. On August 1st, he was killed in a car accident.
It was after his death that I came to realize that Scott was one of the few individuals who took me exactly as I was, self-important lecturing and all, and loved me anyway. He never tried to change a thing about me. The loss of him in my life has been immeasurable. I think about him almost every day. His name is tattooed in a cross on my arm, a celtic cross because that's one of the tattoos he wanted. I grieved with his family, knowing that as deeply as I felt his loss that is was not comparable to his flesh and blood.
Two years after his death, I experienced a loss of a different kind; it was the death of my friendship with Ducky.
Ducky and I had been through so much together, that I thought we had a completely unshakeable foundation. We'd known each other since we were sixteen. We had seen each other through countless ups and downs, twists and turns, joy and pain, happiness and unfathomable sadness. She was closer to me than a sister. I could not imagine my life without her.
Until one day, I could.
Just what happened, I won't say. But while Scott's death was completely out of my control, losing Ducky as a friend was entirely up to me. It weighs on me sometimes, despite how "right" I felt I was being, because losing her friendship meant losing her family, whom I also dearly, dearly loved.
And so on the eve of Scott's birthday, I think of how often I take people for granted. It never once occurred to me that Scott wouldn't be around, just as it never occurred to me that Ducky and I wouldn't make it for the long haul.
I don't always treat people close to me with as much appreciation as I truly feel toward them. I want to learn to love others with more purpose, and be grateful for the time I have with the ones God has put in my life.
Because life changes too fast not to.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
A Summer Frost (Bite)
"It's the quiet ones you have to look out for."
"Still waters run deep."
That's what you think...until you dive in wholeheartedly, trusting in old adages. Then you realize a little too late that no, the still water was running pretty damn shallow. Have fun with that broken head. Broken neck.
Broken heart.
Let me ask you a question. At what point does your lack of attraction to me become your problem and not mine? Where is that fine line? Perhaps it's hidden under all this unwanted fat.
I recently read a great article about body image; how we view ourselves vs. how others may view us. The gist of it was "Love yourself at any size, and believe yourself worthy of love from others too."
Worthy of love. Would you believe that I have spent much of my life feeling unworthy of love? You know what started the change in my thinking?
Three years ago my very good friend died. And I came to the realization after his death that he was one of the few people who really knew me, who took me exactly as I was and loved me. He loved me right in the now.
And I remember talking to a friend of mine, saying, "He loved me, but I don't know why. I'm nothing special." She turned it around and said, "But that's what love is. That's God's love for you. You don't have to earn it, you don't have to do anything to get it. You don't have to be skinny or smart, or work hard for it. It's free, and unconditional."
I've known God all my life. But I haven't known God's unconditional love all my life. Three years ago is when I started to be open to receiving it.
Flash-forward to a day like today, where it started out with, "I'm not attracted to you, but that doesn't mean I love you any less." I'm sure that would be reassuring if our definition of love was the same. Actually, I'm not sure you would even think that way if our definition of love was the same. Perhaps I'm wrong, though. Certainly my attraction to them dropped several degrees when I heard those words.
Part of me wants to start extreme exercising, so I can make myself skinny faster, to win back that attraction. And part of me wants to go out and find someone who IS attracted to me - right now, as I am - and be all like, "SUCK IT!" to my antagonist. But the part of me that's winning out is the part of me that has nothing to do with me: It's the still, quiet voice saying, "It's ok. You are lovely to Me."
Today sucked. But instead of berating myself in the mirror, and instead of eating a sleeve of oreos, soggy from my tears, I decided to remember that I am lovely at this size to Someone. And I'm worthy of love, according to Him. For me, that's a step in the right direction three years in the making.
Maybe even a lifetime in the making.
"Still waters run deep."
That's what you think...until you dive in wholeheartedly, trusting in old adages. Then you realize a little too late that no, the still water was running pretty damn shallow. Have fun with that broken head. Broken neck.
Broken heart.
Let me ask you a question. At what point does your lack of attraction to me become your problem and not mine? Where is that fine line? Perhaps it's hidden under all this unwanted fat.
I recently read a great article about body image; how we view ourselves vs. how others may view us. The gist of it was "Love yourself at any size, and believe yourself worthy of love from others too."
Worthy of love. Would you believe that I have spent much of my life feeling unworthy of love? You know what started the change in my thinking?
Three years ago my very good friend died. And I came to the realization after his death that he was one of the few people who really knew me, who took me exactly as I was and loved me. He loved me right in the now.
And I remember talking to a friend of mine, saying, "He loved me, but I don't know why. I'm nothing special." She turned it around and said, "But that's what love is. That's God's love for you. You don't have to earn it, you don't have to do anything to get it. You don't have to be skinny or smart, or work hard for it. It's free, and unconditional."
I've known God all my life. But I haven't known God's unconditional love all my life. Three years ago is when I started to be open to receiving it.
Flash-forward to a day like today, where it started out with, "I'm not attracted to you, but that doesn't mean I love you any less." I'm sure that would be reassuring if our definition of love was the same. Actually, I'm not sure you would even think that way if our definition of love was the same. Perhaps I'm wrong, though. Certainly my attraction to them dropped several degrees when I heard those words.
Part of me wants to start extreme exercising, so I can make myself skinny faster, to win back that attraction. And part of me wants to go out and find someone who IS attracted to me - right now, as I am - and be all like, "SUCK IT!" to my antagonist. But the part of me that's winning out is the part of me that has nothing to do with me: It's the still, quiet voice saying, "It's ok. You are lovely to Me."
Today sucked. But instead of berating myself in the mirror, and instead of eating a sleeve of oreos, soggy from my tears, I decided to remember that I am lovely at this size to Someone. And I'm worthy of love, according to Him. For me, that's a step in the right direction three years in the making.
Maybe even a lifetime in the making.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Dates of two kinds
"No, I don't think I will kiss you. Although, you need kissing badly. That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how." --Rhett Butler
I would like to go on a date. I would like to be asked out, picked up, told I'm pretty, hand holding throughout and thoroughly kissed goodnight at the end.
Perhaps I have watched Enchanted one too many times. Or maybe it's the little romantic I seem to be raising. The girl child is constantly drawing stick figures holding hands and dancing, telling me stories about princes and princesses. She looks at my wedding photos and exclaims over my wedding dress and says, "Daddy and Mommy are married!" She's excited about it because I've always been excited when I tell her about it.
*heavy sigh*
Romance these days feels like a misplaced item that I'm constantly trying to find, and just know I left in the last house that we lived in. Or maybe it was two houses ago. Or three...and how does one go about trying to "keep the fire alive" when it's taken effort on both sides to just work on not letting the embers of the relationship die altogether?
*another heavy sigh*
Time to change the subject.
Tomorrow is my twenty-ninth birthday. I have spent the last couple of years feeling so ancient, physically and emotionally, that I have to remind myself that I'm only twenty-nine. I'm looking forward to starting a new year in my life, one where I'm less weary, and more energized. And where I do more for other people than I do for myself.
I saw a shirt in Target the other day that said, "Do more of what makes you happy." I stood there for a long time thinking that if I did more of what made me "happy", I'd probably eat a lot more froyo, drink a lot more vodka, and spend a lot more money. ;-) Suddenly a song from my childhood entered my head. I could hear "Psalty the Singing Song Book" belting out, "If you want to be great in God's kingdom, learn to be the servant of all." That's actually in the Bible, in the book of Mark.
"But it shall not be so among you; but whosoever will be great among you shall be your minister, whosoever will be chiefest, shall be servant of all." Mark 10:43-44 (KJV)
And I remembered the true happiness that comes from doing kind things for other people. And I have decided to spend this twenty-ninth year making that my focus, starting with my family and working out. I feel very blessed tonight, thinking tomorrow I will have the privilege of spending the day with my family and my friends. God is good, and that stays true every year, whether I'm good or not.
So maybe I won't be getting romance, or a date night, or a long kiss goodnight. But maybe I can instead reap happiness from sowing the seeds of kindness towards others. That would be ok with me.
I would like to go on a date. I would like to be asked out, picked up, told I'm pretty, hand holding throughout and thoroughly kissed goodnight at the end.
Perhaps I have watched Enchanted one too many times. Or maybe it's the little romantic I seem to be raising. The girl child is constantly drawing stick figures holding hands and dancing, telling me stories about princes and princesses. She looks at my wedding photos and exclaims over my wedding dress and says, "Daddy and Mommy are married!" She's excited about it because I've always been excited when I tell her about it.
*heavy sigh*
Romance these days feels like a misplaced item that I'm constantly trying to find, and just know I left in the last house that we lived in. Or maybe it was two houses ago. Or three...and how does one go about trying to "keep the fire alive" when it's taken effort on both sides to just work on not letting the embers of the relationship die altogether?
*another heavy sigh*
Time to change the subject.
Tomorrow is my twenty-ninth birthday. I have spent the last couple of years feeling so ancient, physically and emotionally, that I have to remind myself that I'm only twenty-nine. I'm looking forward to starting a new year in my life, one where I'm less weary, and more energized. And where I do more for other people than I do for myself.
I saw a shirt in Target the other day that said, "Do more of what makes you happy." I stood there for a long time thinking that if I did more of what made me "happy", I'd probably eat a lot more froyo, drink a lot more vodka, and spend a lot more money. ;-) Suddenly a song from my childhood entered my head. I could hear "Psalty the Singing Song Book" belting out, "If you want to be great in God's kingdom, learn to be the servant of all." That's actually in the Bible, in the book of Mark.
"But it shall not be so among you; but whosoever will be great among you shall be your minister, whosoever will be chiefest, shall be servant of all." Mark 10:43-44 (KJV)
And I remembered the true happiness that comes from doing kind things for other people. And I have decided to spend this twenty-ninth year making that my focus, starting with my family and working out. I feel very blessed tonight, thinking tomorrow I will have the privilege of spending the day with my family and my friends. God is good, and that stays true every year, whether I'm good or not.
So maybe I won't be getting romance, or a date night, or a long kiss goodnight. But maybe I can instead reap happiness from sowing the seeds of kindness towards others. That would be ok with me.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
The Picnic Basket
A few months ago the man was here on a visit with the kids, and to do some work around the house. When I came home from work on one day, he had been out man shopping at Home Depot. He even bought me a present: a mini drill of my own. I thought that was pretty sweet, considering our separated status. Then he surprised me further by saying, "I bought a lunch pail."
"A lunch pail?" I replied, "Like a lunchbox? Like a metal one?"
"No, like a lunch pail. And we are going to go on a picnic."
Even though I wasn't really sure what a lunch pail was by his standards, I started smiling. My thoughts were rushing wildly. I thought, "It's been so long since he has done anything spontaneous like this. Oh wow, I can't believe we are going on a picnic and it was his idea. Omg, what does this mean?" He left the room, and my roommate came in and asked me if I'd seen the lunch pail. I said I hadn't, and she pointed it out to me, telling me it already had stuff in it.
My gaze was directed to a turquoise square tote that looked like one of those fabric insulated coolers. I could hardly believe it. We were really going on a picnic! He had not only bought this really square cooler, but he'd also filled it up? I was beyond ecstatic and even filled with a tiny bit of hope at the implications. I tried not to get too ahead of myself as I opened up the lid and saw...
...tools. Wait...what?
I stared for what seemed like an eternity at the two drills sitting in the turquoise box, not really comprehending what I was seeing. I looked up, with what I'm sure was a perplexed look on my face. The man and my roommate laughed, it was all a joke. They were just teasing.
A joke. I certainly felt like a joke. I certainly felt like a fool.
I felt the tears well up in my eyes and spill out before I could stop them. Now it was the man's turn to look perplexed.
"Are you crying?" He asked. I shook my head no. But at that point I was actually audibly sobbing.
"This is you not crying?"
I couldn't form the words I wanted to say. I couldn't tell him that in a very few minutes, I'd placed the entire hopes of a different future for us on something as simple as a picnic, and a lunch pail. I couldn't explain that opening that box and finding it full of something entirely different than picnic fair, meant it was also empty of dreams.
But, pathetically, the only thing I could say was:
"I thought the picnic was real."
My poor roommate felt so bad, never dreaming for a moment that I would have believed her especially. She does tend to be full of mischief and I normally am more cautious. I was obviously off my game that day.
Flash forward to last week. As a Mother's Day gift, I received from the man a large wicker basket, full of real dishes and glasses and silverware; a very fancy picnic basket. I know why he bought it, and I appreciate what he means by it. But as the days have gone by, and I walk by the basket every day as it sits in my room, I wonder when it will be used. I wonder if there will be picnics together. I wonder what sort of future there is to be for us.
I feel like one day I will walk into my room and the basket won't be there. And the writing on the wall will say, "The picnic is a lie."
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Sins of our fathers
Today would have been my parents forty-something wedding anniversary, if they had stayed together. Instead, they were divorced after twenty something years and eight kids. That happened when I was eight, and I lived with my mother growing up, not really seeing my father much until I was about sixteen. At that age I asked my father why, in his opinion, did he and my mom split up?
He gave me a few reasons, the main one being that he and my mom had too much miscommunication. He also mentioned feeling unappreciated by my mom, and instead of communicating that clearly, he sought appreciation from other sources. When I told my mom that dad had felt unappreciated, she seemed surprised. How could he feel unappreciated? She gave him eights kids, dinner on the table at five each night, a clean and comfortable home, what else did he want?
Before my husband (who is also from a broken home) and I got married, I distinctly remember us having a conversation about the importance of communication, and how we would strive to be better than our parents. We would make it work where they couldn't. We wouldn't repeat their mistakes.
Now here I sit, eight and a half years later, and he and I are in the middle of a divorce. The reason? I would say the inability to communicate.
Pride comes before destruction, it seems.
There are other things. Two people who have spent more than half their marriage apart from each other shouldn't be surprised when they wake up to find they have changed, and they didn't change together. But you could have knocked me over with a feather several months ago when my husband informed me that he didn't feel appreciated by me. I was astounded. How can you not feel appreciated, I ranted, when I've given you two beautiful children, when I've waited for you on deployments, and wrote to you every day, and gave you love and support and on and on and on and on and oooooooooooonnn.
It dawned on me recently (like, Monday) that my way of thinking I was being appreciative was not his way of feeling appreciated. It never occurred to me to ask him how he needed me to show support, because I just assumed what I was doing was right, or good enough. It never occurred to him to tell me different because he's the "suck it up and keep it to yourself" type. Comes from being a Marine, I think, and also the home he grew up in.
Ironically, when the whole thing was laid out, it turned out we were both feeling the same way: Unappreciated, and in some ways unloved and disrespected. Who knew? Neither of us.
Better than our parents?
Hmmm...
He gave me a few reasons, the main one being that he and my mom had too much miscommunication. He also mentioned feeling unappreciated by my mom, and instead of communicating that clearly, he sought appreciation from other sources. When I told my mom that dad had felt unappreciated, she seemed surprised. How could he feel unappreciated? She gave him eights kids, dinner on the table at five each night, a clean and comfortable home, what else did he want?
Before my husband (who is also from a broken home) and I got married, I distinctly remember us having a conversation about the importance of communication, and how we would strive to be better than our parents. We would make it work where they couldn't. We wouldn't repeat their mistakes.
Now here I sit, eight and a half years later, and he and I are in the middle of a divorce. The reason? I would say the inability to communicate.
Pride comes before destruction, it seems.
There are other things. Two people who have spent more than half their marriage apart from each other shouldn't be surprised when they wake up to find they have changed, and they didn't change together. But you could have knocked me over with a feather several months ago when my husband informed me that he didn't feel appreciated by me. I was astounded. How can you not feel appreciated, I ranted, when I've given you two beautiful children, when I've waited for you on deployments, and wrote to you every day, and gave you love and support and on and on and on and on and oooooooooooonnn.
It dawned on me recently (like, Monday) that my way of thinking I was being appreciative was not his way of feeling appreciated. It never occurred to me to ask him how he needed me to show support, because I just assumed what I was doing was right, or good enough. It never occurred to him to tell me different because he's the "suck it up and keep it to yourself" type. Comes from being a Marine, I think, and also the home he grew up in.
Ironically, when the whole thing was laid out, it turned out we were both feeling the same way: Unappreciated, and in some ways unloved and disrespected. Who knew? Neither of us.
Better than our parents?
Hmmm...
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Pearls Before Swine
"Do not give what is holy to the dogs; nor cast your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and tear you in pieces." - Matt. 7:6
I did not understand this Bible verse for the longest time. I literally pictured in my head someone taking off a pearl necklace and throwing it in a pig pen...and then the pigs going crazy, smashing the pearls and trampling/eating the person alive.
Quite terrifying, actually.
Believe it or not, this year (and most of last year) has been the time that an interpretation of that verse has presented itself to me, in a way applicable to life. So here is my translation of the verse, or at least the latter part:
Don't lay down your trust, your feelings, your dreams, or your reason before people who do not appreciate them or cannot understand them, because they will massively under appreciate it, or completely ignore it, and then tear your heart to shreds.
I love watching old movies. Occasionally you will hear the insult, "You swine!" You mindless, classless, feelingless, uncomprehending pig. That's what I think of when I hear the term.
Pearls before swine. I think it also means not trying to reason with unreasonable people (There are many other Bible verses that reference that too). It cannot be done, and you waste your breath, your energy, and severely dampen your spirits by persisting in thinking, "If only I could make them understand how much this or that hurts me. Surely they would be kinder if they knew."
They know, they just don't care.
The sooner one can accept the fact that some people don't want a share in your life if it comes at the expense of having to give any part of theirs, the better off you will be.
My difficulty is that it takes me a while to process these moments of clarity and realization. And I find myself still hoping for understanding, still spreading my dreams under their feet.
Tread softly, swine. You tread on my dreams.
I did not understand this Bible verse for the longest time. I literally pictured in my head someone taking off a pearl necklace and throwing it in a pig pen...and then the pigs going crazy, smashing the pearls and trampling/eating the person alive.
Quite terrifying, actually.
Believe it or not, this year (and most of last year) has been the time that an interpretation of that verse has presented itself to me, in a way applicable to life. So here is my translation of the verse, or at least the latter part:
Don't lay down your trust, your feelings, your dreams, or your reason before people who do not appreciate them or cannot understand them, because they will massively under appreciate it, or completely ignore it, and then tear your heart to shreds.
I love watching old movies. Occasionally you will hear the insult, "You swine!" You mindless, classless, feelingless, uncomprehending pig. That's what I think of when I hear the term.
Pearls before swine. I think it also means not trying to reason with unreasonable people (There are many other Bible verses that reference that too). It cannot be done, and you waste your breath, your energy, and severely dampen your spirits by persisting in thinking, "If only I could make them understand how much this or that hurts me. Surely they would be kinder if they knew."
They know, they just don't care.
The sooner one can accept the fact that some people don't want a share in your life if it comes at the expense of having to give any part of theirs, the better off you will be.
My difficulty is that it takes me a while to process these moments of clarity and realization. And I find myself still hoping for understanding, still spreading my dreams under their feet.
Tread softly, swine. You tread on my dreams.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Not quite poetry
You feel neglected, but nothing you have done has gone unnoticed.
I remember the days when you held me with intent, so close and with promise.
It was because I appreciated your efforts that I recognized when they ceased.
When did you stop looking at me with love? I can almost name the day.
The day you decided to give in to your notions, and invent your reasons.
We were young, and foolish. Had we the maturity, it would have been different.
How, sir?
Do you feel nothing? How easy, it seems, for you to treat me like a mistake.
In a few short words, and a few short looks, you reduce years to nothing.
You reduce countless nights of frantic worry to an equation that you figured wrong.
You reduce endless pages of words, important words, to tripe.
I can feel the pieces of my heart subtracted every time you say it was never meant to be.
And every thing I held so dear about you crumbles in my mind.
In this moment, I feel as you do; we are nothing but a waste of time.
Happy Valentines Day.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Dissolution/Disillusion
These words sound similar to me, so I looked each of them up:
dis·il·lu·sion
dis·so·lu·tion
Noun
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dis·il·lu·sion
Noun
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Verb
Did you know that in some states, you can walk into a court house and pick up a "Dissolution" packet? It's for couples who have "mutually" decided to end their marriage. They can fill out the paperwork, file it with the court for a small fee, wait for a period of time, and voila! Marriage over. No lawyers, no real costs and hardly any hassle.
I was thinking, though, wouldn't it be more appropriate if it were called a "Disillusioned" packet? Because isn't that what's really going on?
It could start out with only one person, perhaps waking up one day and thinking that their monogamous, monotonous, responsibility laden life is not as good as they believed it to be. Or maybe it doesn't happen that suddenly: maybe it happens slowly, over the course of the relationship. I've heard it said that sometimes people enter a relationship really expecting that a person will change, and that's a mistake. Well, it goes both ways. I would say, perhaps you shouldn't enter a relationship and expect things not to change either. Ideally, a couple should change together. Realistically, that is not always the case. Sometimes the directions they take are vastly different, and I can see how easy it would be to one day wake up, turn over to look at your spouse, and give in to the feelings of utter disappointment.
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I pity the other half, the one who thought, "It's just a phase, they're just under stress, it's their job, it's this house, it's the weather," it's anything other than the truth: You are just not as good as they once believed you to be. That must hurt, can you imagine? The person you share your bed with, your home with, your body, your soul, trust, faith has decided you just aren't as good to them as you once were. Would you blame yourself? "It's because I gained so much weight after the kids were born, it's because he/she never wanted children, it's because I didn't change jobs, it's because I look older, it's because I don't keep the house as clean, I shop too much, I expect too much..." That must damage a person, to their very core. I imagine the pain from that sort of rejection probably reaches a physical level, especially if the disillusionment is put into actual words: "I do not want you anymore. I do not love you anymore."
Of course, I cannot speak for all couples, and I certainly don't know all the reasons marriages and relationships end. But when the time for dissolution comes, surely disillusion presides over all.
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Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Once and Future Kate
Fact: I had no idea that Facebook kept so many messages from so long ago, even from people you aren't friends with/don't have a profile anymore. I'm glad of this, because it allowed me to reference a message a friend wrote me a year and a half ago that I recently was trying to recall. I remember she gave me some fantastic advice, because I was really struggling emotionally at the time. She told me to think of where I wanted to be in five years, and how would I get there. I really did think about it, and I even journaled about it later that night.
What I failed to remember is that I had articulated to her very well where I didn't want to be in five years, and I wrote at the end of the paragraph that I was starting to realize that "no matter how much I change, I can't change____." Looking back on that, I feel a little sad for the Kate that was; so scared and hurt, and feeling unable to change things herself.
A year and a half later, what I said remains. No matter how much I've further changed, the circumstances haven't. But this time, I am not afraid of what I need to do to change it. Actually, that's not true, I am afraid. I've just presently decided to be brave, to face the pain and uncertainty instead of hiding from it.
And maybe in three and a half years, future Kate can look back and be thankful she didn't waste anymore time on fear.
What I failed to remember is that I had articulated to her very well where I didn't want to be in five years, and I wrote at the end of the paragraph that I was starting to realize that "no matter how much I change, I can't change____." Looking back on that, I feel a little sad for the Kate that was; so scared and hurt, and feeling unable to change things herself.
A year and a half later, what I said remains. No matter how much I've further changed, the circumstances haven't. But this time, I am not afraid of what I need to do to change it. Actually, that's not true, I am afraid. I've just presently decided to be brave, to face the pain and uncertainty instead of hiding from it.
And maybe in three and a half years, future Kate can look back and be thankful she didn't waste anymore time on fear.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Loving Superheroes
I have been thinking about this for many days and I'm just tired enough to write it all out. It probably won't make any sense at all...
Imagine you've fallen in love with Batman (or the hero of your choice). He's brave, he's strong, he's sexy; he can do things that are impossible for "normal" people to do. He fights bad guys, he has awesome gadgets, and he looks amazing in his cape and cowl. And for a while, loving Batman is adventurous and exciting. You admire him, you idolize him, you are enthralled by him. You would do anything for him.
Imagine you've fallen in love with Batman (or the hero of your choice). He's brave, he's strong, he's sexy; he can do things that are impossible for "normal" people to do. He fights bad guys, he has awesome gadgets, and he looks amazing in his cape and cowl. And for a while, loving Batman is adventurous and exciting. You admire him, you idolize him, you are enthralled by him. You would do anything for him.
But at the end of the day, he comes home and takes off his mask. Suddenly, he's not the person you fell in love with. He's an orphaned kid with a load of emotional baggage, a man who's driven to his heroic accomplishments by pain. Perhaps that's his real super power: being able to turn his anguish into the physical strength to do what is necessary. But that broken boy, made more broken by the every day struggle against evil, has nothing left in the end to give. And soon, you find that you expect too much of him.
"For God's sake, Batman, you can fight off twenty men at once but you can't pick up the right box of cereal? I told you three times."
"You can remember the names of every criminal in Arkham, but the anniversary of when we met, that's not important enough for you?"
"You can exchange witty banter with evil super villains but you won't talk to me. I don't even know who you are anymore."
Do you really believe that he can devote his time to saving Gotham, and be there for you in the way that you need? You've fooled yourself into thinking he could, because you believed that he was something more than he really is. You mistook the mask for the man.
Do you really believe that he can devote his time to saving Gotham, and be there for you in the way that you need? You've fooled yourself into thinking he could, because you believed that he was something more than he really is. You mistook the mask for the man.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
They're Playing My Song
I know I'm not the only one who does this...
Currently I'm singing, "I Dreamed a Dream" from Les Miserables (as performed by Michael Henry and Justin Robinette) and "Letting Go." by The Afters. What are you singing?
Do you ever find yourself putting songs to life situations? I do that a lot. I have songs for everything, in fact I have songs for situations that aren't even mine. "You're going through a break up? Omg, this song describes your life." There are so many appropriate songs for so many different life events. For example, when my friend of twelve years and I parted ways, I ascribed the song "Too Close" by Alex Clare to it.
"It feels like I am just to close to love you. There is nothing I can really say. I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more, got to be true to myself...so I'll be on my way." Perfect: I know too much about you. I've said all I can say. I have to do what is true for me. We can no longer be friends. Goodbye. (That's my interpretation of the song)
When Daniel was on deployments: "Here Without You" by 3 Doors Down or "Far Away" by Nickelback. Sing it, boys. I'm going to cry and write long letters.
When I think of Michael Fassbender, or any current version of Sherlock Holmes (or even Basil Rathbone): "Run" by Matt Nathanson.
I'm kidding...I'm mostly kidding
I'm kidding...I'm mostly kidding
I don't really have a point to all this, I just was thinking about how much I take from music, and how sometimes I wish I could speak in song lyrics. Sometimes I picture singing various songs to the people I want to confront, or comfort someone. What would life be like if we acted like we lived in musicals and just burst into song? Sometimes I do, when I'm alone. I sing at the top of my lungs, and it feels right.
Currently I'm singing, "I Dreamed a Dream" from Les Miserables (as performed by Michael Henry and Justin Robinette) and "Letting Go." by The Afters. What are you singing?
Friday, January 11, 2013
Letting It Go
Almost exactly a year ago, I sat on a beach in Waikiki. It was a warm night, with a soft breeze and the waves rolled to shore in front of me, and I was telling the person who sat next to me that I didn't know why I couldn't just let "it" go. I spent over two weeks in Hawaii last year, and I learned a lot on that trip. But I never did learn how to let "it" go.
All day I've been repeating to myself that saying, "The definition of insanity is doing the same thing exactly the same way and expecting a different result." I'm finally coming to the realization that I can hold on, and try, and pray and cry and scream, and claw and cling with all my might, but it won't change. And I can't force it to. I am, in fact, powerless to.
It's hard to accept that. It's just as hard for me to accept what I can't change as it is for me to realize by letting go, everything will change. Just not in the way I wanted. Not in the way that I planned.
There is a verse that I always think of when I am faced with making any sort of decisions: A man plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps. (Prov. 16:9) I just never think about God directing me through the darker places life takes me. I typically think of myself as having wandered there, like the metaphorical lost sheep. But maybe there are times when we don't choose to wander the valley, that's just where the road leads.
All day I've been repeating to myself that saying, "The definition of insanity is doing the same thing exactly the same way and expecting a different result." I'm finally coming to the realization that I can hold on, and try, and pray and cry and scream, and claw and cling with all my might, but it won't change. And I can't force it to. I am, in fact, powerless to.
It's hard to accept that. It's just as hard for me to accept what I can't change as it is for me to realize by letting go, everything will change. Just not in the way I wanted. Not in the way that I planned.
There is a verse that I always think of when I am faced with making any sort of decisions: A man plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps. (Prov. 16:9) I just never think about God directing me through the darker places life takes me. I typically think of myself as having wandered there, like the metaphorical lost sheep. But maybe there are times when we don't choose to wander the valley, that's just where the road leads.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Love Right Now
Last week I was given the following advice: "Don't think of things as they used to be. Think of things as they are, and look for the positive in it."
It's good advice, and I started putting it into practice this weekend. In doing so, I discovered something about myself, and that is that I expect tit for tat on my positivity. If I am going out of my way to find the positive in you, then you had better turn right back around and find something in me too. If I do a good thing for you, then you need to do one for me too.
When did I get like that?
Somewhere along the course of my relationships (not all, but one especially), I stopped doing things out of love and started doing them only if I felt I could get something back. And then I started thinking if I'm on a love and goodness kick, you better get on board and be doing the same, because otherwise I'll feel hurt by your lack of response and then I'll make your life miserable.
Reading that all written out is shocking, but I think it often enough. I've slipped into this sort of weird mindset of expecting appreciation, and responding with retaliation when I don't get it. And this is my attitude toward people I claim to love. That doesn't sound like love to me, and I'm sure it doesn't feel like it to them.
I was taught at a young age to "do unto others what you would have them do unto you." We've all heard it: Treat people the way you want to be treated. How would I feel if every time someone did something nice for me, or complimented me, or praised me, they turned around and said, "Ok, you're turn." And if I didn't deliver, suddenly I am the target of their anger. I couldn't live like that, yet I expect other people to. Hmm...
So I have another resolution for this year: Treat people the way I want to be treated, without expecting the same in return. I can't help but feel optimistic that if I can manage to do that most of the time it will solve a lot of internal conflict, and put my heart back where it belongs.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Internal Conversations
My thoughts as I did dishes this morning, and contemplated my fitness and nutrition goals for the new year:
I really should just cut out the junk food cold turkey for a while. I've been over indulging for so many months now that I should have no problem depriving myself for a short amount of time. Yes, a little depravity is just what I need.
I don't know why my brain thought "depravity" was the appropriate word. I've been resolved thus far to refrain from any acts of moral corruption. I can generally make it through the day without killing anyone, or having torrid affairs (or mundane affairs), or whatever else. That's pretty easy. But ask me to make it through the day without eating my feelings worth of chocolate...
Anyway, the end result of the internal dialogue was that for this new year, I am determined to permanently change my diet up. I go through these periods of time where I'll be eating healthy and active for a few months and then suddenly, I want to eat EVERYTHING and not move. I have resolved to get a handle on a healthy lifestyle without such extreme ups and downs before I'm thirty, so that means this year is the year to make it happen. Further goals for this year are to run a half marathon, and compete in the Zombie run in Seattle this year. I really do enjoy working out, and I'm excited to try some new things along the fitness line.
Anyone else have any health/fitness goals for this year?
I really should just cut out the junk food cold turkey for a while. I've been over indulging for so many months now that I should have no problem depriving myself for a short amount of time. Yes, a little depravity is just what I need.
I don't know why my brain thought "depravity" was the appropriate word. I've been resolved thus far to refrain from any acts of moral corruption. I can generally make it through the day without killing anyone, or having torrid affairs (or mundane affairs), or whatever else. That's pretty easy. But ask me to make it through the day without eating my feelings worth of chocolate...
Anyway, the end result of the internal dialogue was that for this new year, I am determined to permanently change my diet up. I go through these periods of time where I'll be eating healthy and active for a few months and then suddenly, I want to eat EVERYTHING and not move. I have resolved to get a handle on a healthy lifestyle without such extreme ups and downs before I'm thirty, so that means this year is the year to make it happen. Further goals for this year are to run a half marathon, and compete in the Zombie run in Seattle this year. I really do enjoy working out, and I'm excited to try some new things along the fitness line.
Anyone else have any health/fitness goals for this year?
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