Doing It Wrong

I've been doing It wrong.

Not that It. Though I've done that It wrong in the past too...

I realized a few weeks ago how simply I'd been getting my own space. Freak out, have a meltdown, be mad and POOF! Space.

I could grab my keys, storm off in a fit of rage and have all the time I needed. Nobody asks a crazy lady questions so I take the car or not. I could walk it off, go out to eat alone, or do any other thing I wanted. But I came home mad. Mad that the only way I get to be alone is after throwing a fit or getting mad. I was mad that nothing got better while I was gone. I was mad that being in my house made me crazy. Mad mad mad.

So decided to start getting space in a new way.

It wasn't easy - new patterns never are - but after the first few times I got better at it and so did Husband. The Littles are still trying to catch on - but they will.

I say "I need a minute" and I take a minute. No argument. No discussion. No whining.

If anybody asks any questions, I simply leave. Before throwing my biting comment back in response. Well I don't know WHAT the hell you're supposed to do, but you're a grown man, so I'm sure you can figure it out for at least 2 minutes without me...I do it every damn day. All day every damn day.

That was a big deal, but the bigger deal was when I realized I was doing my Space Time wrong too.

I'd worry and feel guilty and be mad reviewing our last mean words to each other over and over again storing them for evidence of what a Jerk I married. I'd cry and be sad that this was my life. I could feel the anger and the hurt bubbling out of my throat burning all the way.

But yesterday when Husband and kids were buckled in the car and ready to go to a family event, I simply bowed out. "I just need some time." I said and watched them pull away with a smile on my face.

And since I had time I did exactly what I wanted. I vegged, watched a show, ate and peed in peace.

And then, when that little voice inside me said "OK. You're good now." I got up. I did dishes, I cooked for my family and planned some upcoming events and Lady Productivity was happy to be let loose.

It's so easy when I'm mid-meltdown to stay melted. To smash down that little voice. Because an object in motion stays in motion. And changing the direction of that motion takes a decent amount of force.

Sometimes my little voice is just too little and my wallow-motion wins. But if I've entered the wallowing peacefully, it's much easier to hear. It takes far less force to change direction and at then end of my Space Time, I feel better. I've had a rejuvenating mud bath rather than having wallowed with swine.

Here's my sign. If at the end of my Space Time it's not better, I was doing it wrong.

Dreaming

Jacy was sharing her dreams and I realized that I've never been a big dreamer. I don't want to be rich or famous or well liked. I want a simple life. With a few close friends and a lot of kind acquaintances.

I started to write my simple dreams as a comment on her post, but now I can't stop. I don't have BIG dreams, but I do have a BIG list of SIMPLE dreams.

I want to stay at home with my Littles and teach them to make bread and listen to them play catch together while I weed the garden.

I want to learn to do my own hair and not look like some icky 70's rocker dude with the wavy-not-curly hair.

I want to own my own home and have it feel like peace instead of chaos and tension.

And someday I want to ride a bike in a skirt. The kind of bike with a bell and a basket. I want to take that bike grocery shopping for just a loaf of bread, pay cash and put the change in my pocket. On my way home I'll wave to my neighbors as I ride past smiling like an idiot. I don't want to do this everyday - just once. ..... Or maybe twice.

I want to teach. I'm unqualified to teach most everything - but someday somehow I'd like to teach someone something of value. I don't really know that I care about the format, or the content. I'd just like to teach.

I'd like to be followed by a photographer for 18 hours while I do regular life. I want someone to capture the sweet and normal moments of my life.
My boys sitting on my lap while I read them bedtime stories.
The 3 of us snuggling under the covers of my son's twin-sized bed.
The face my little one makes when I've served him unacceptable food (read: not ice cream) and he dumps it all over the floor and blows raspberries my direction.
The sweat dripping off my forehead after I've spent hours in the yard tearing out the bad and cultivating the good.
Husband and I curled up together on the love sac at the end of a long day.
I want my real life - in all it's horror and glory to be documented by someone who has the gift for making even the ugliest moments look incredible.

As it turns out, I've had all kinds of opportunities to live many of my simple dreams. And for that I feel blessed.

Sharing

I can see how sharing your story can become addicting.

In fact as we talk about ourselves dopamine is released in the brain. So it's a scientifically proven that our brains enjoy this kind of interaction (hello blogging high!) but when you share your most real self, I can only imagine that affect is compounded.

Every time I get a text or an e-mail or a hear of a friend of a friend who just wants a friend, I feel that same urge to hear their story and share mine. I want to share pieces of mine with pieces of theirs and block out the rest of the world as we talk through what is real.

As more people step out in the light this story becomes easier to share and easier to live.

This is what compels me to write. I often feel that my story is less intense (and therefore less important) than so many others I hear. But I want every story to have a voice. In the beginning I longed for someone to treat "this little problem" as a real problem. I wanted someone to validate my heartache. Someone to understand just how big this was to me.

So I share my story in my little corner of the internet and know that it heals me to do so. Nobody's story will ring as true to me as my own.

I Could Never Have Imagined

I've taken the time to think through this pieces of my life experience and evaluate the path I've walked.

I've been surprised to discover how I feel about it.

Husband's addiction has brought opportunities, relationships and experiences into my life which I could never wish away. Walking through the valley of the shadow of death has been harrowing for sure. But tonight there is no doubt in my mind that my steps have been guided.

I spoke with some strangers this afternoon about my experiences. I stood in a room crowded with men and answered questions about the hardest and most traumatizing pieces of my life so far. I shared with them some of the feelings of betrayal and trauma (and who knew? there's this thing called betrayal trauma!) and the hope that has taken up residency in my heart.

We spoke of relationships I couldn't possibly have created without this community. This community of which you are a part. Even if you've lurked and never commented. Even if you never write your own story. Even if you haven't yet reached out. You are a part of this community. There are moments (like now) when I simply feel drawn to you. Because I know you're there, reading and nodding but mostly relating.

We spoke of the difference I see in me. I've become more loving and accepting, and I've learned to see. people. in a whole knew way. In fact I'd dare say I never really saw people before.

We talked for just one hour about the blessings I've found through this. At least I think that's what we talked about...

When the smooth waters of my life were disrupted with one small pebble's plop in the water, I could never have imagined beauty in the ripples to come.

photo by Michael Foley Photography (source)

Shaaaaame

My MIL is a dear person who I typically have a really great relationship with.

But her views on things are sometimes....extreme. Usually I can just write it off as her being her and agree to (silently) disagree.

She has a strained relationship with her daughters, but because of when I entered her life (and many common interests) I sortof feel like she has felt closer to me. I also happened to marry her golden child (oh, poor mama would die if she knew) and by association I am also golden.

But tonight I did something she doesn't approve of RIGHT in front of her. Like in her mind it's a sin. (In my mind it's not - didn't even cross my mind that she might take issue with it.) And oh the shame.

I asked Husband if I was going to get grounded. He said yes. We laughed. I cried a little inside.  And here I am 4 hours later still squirming at the thought that she doesn't approve of me.

Oh shame. How I loathe thee.

Highs and Lows

It seems like things around here have been either extremely high or extremely low.

I'm seeing Husband do great things he's never been willing to do before recovery wise.
But I'm also seeing him sink to new lows.

During the last 6 months he's done things I thought I'd never see him do. Most of these things might not be that big a deal to you or yours, but they are lines I was sure he'd never cross. Things I thought he'd never do. Though I also thought he'd never look at porn....what do I know?

The latest is the one that scares me the most. He has started yelling. At me and The Littles.

His biological father was a pretty abusive man, he yelled a lot and hit them occasionally. Husband was terrified of him until the day he died. He hated that man. And it is his life's mission not to be like him. Which is why yelling has always been off limits.

WAY off limits.


I grew up in a family where we barely talked about things at all - much less yelled them. To this day I've never heard my dad raise his voice.

But on Sunday after asking and being ignored 3 times, I got in Husband's face about something and he yelled at me - not just a little. A lot. I refused to back down (one of my major flaws) and I swear there was a look in his eye I've never seen before. If he hadn't walked away stormed out when he did he might have hit me. I sobbed for about 10 minutes until I had people coming over for a meeting.

It took most of the day and a lot of distraction to feel like I even dared talk to him; but even then I couldn't bring it up, so we still haven't discussed it.

Tonight when he shamed my son (who said he hated me) my son started to cry and screamed at the top of his lungs, Husband (while driving 85 mph on the on-ramp of the freeway) turned around and yelled/growled/shouted and my Little. When I told him to stop it and watch the road he turned on me.

He drove like a maniac the rest of the way home (about 30 minutes) while I prayed that something would slow him down before he hurt somebody. Fortunately we hit traffic and he was forced to drive a more reasonable speed.

By the time we got home Husband was back to his regular nice self. He acted like nothing happened and when he put his hand on my back and I shuddered he was offended.
How dare I hold it against him?
It wasn't a big deal, what is my problem?
He can't believe I won't just forgive him.

I swear he has moments of sanity and clarity and goodness. Glimpses of recovery.

But when it gets hard, Jekyll is nowhere to be found and Hyde runs unrestrained through my home.

That's when I feel like an idiot for sticking around. And validated for saying this is a real issue. 

With or Without Him

I think I sometimes have a "strong" personality - which is the polite way of saying I'm a pain in the butt and difficult to live with. And in order to counteract my "strong" personality, I spend a lot of time trying to make sure I'm not in anybody's way. I don't want to step on toes or steal somebody's thunder, or be in the way. I want to do my job while everybody else does theirs.

That's why it's hard for me to kill my own buffalo when it's so clearly Husband's job.

When he's gone, it becomes clearly my job and I'm happy to step up to the plate. I kill spiders, care for open flesh wounds, climb trees to chop down limbs and pay people to do maintenance on the cars - all by myself. (I know...I'm impressive. [insert mock bows here])

Historically, we run a tight ship around here, staying as busy as possible and often over-scheduling our poor little family. This means either he does everything or I do everything as the other one of us is off doing something else. It's easier to take responsibility when the choices for responsible people are just me or The Littles.
 
But in an effort to repair our damaged relationship and live our lives at a more reasonable pace, we've made a concerted effort to Stop It.We're slowing down. Not going places every day and trying to make our relationship a higher priority than all the other relationships.

This means we're around each other more. Which is.....different.

The tough part for me is killing my own buffalo while my *mumble mumble, grumble grumble* husband stands there watching.

Can I load The Littles in the stroller and walk them to school without getting anybody hit by a car all by myself? Yes I can.
Can I kill the spiders, do the dishes, kiss the skinned knees and answer the phone while cooking mac 'n cheese ? Yes I can.
Can I pay people to maintain my cars, pump my own gas, be an awesome landlord and mow my own lawn? Yes I can.

But when Husband joins us on any of these adventures, I hate him for making me do it all.
I want him to kiss the knees while I cook the lunch.
I want to squeal like a little girl while he kills the unbelievably large spider.
I want to count on him to chase one Little out of the street while the other Little and I examine the worms in the sidewalk cracks.
I want him to at least load the gun for me so I can kill the buffalo.

This is still my challenge. Killing my own buffalo WITH (or without) him.

So this week when he joined us for our walk to school, distracting The Littles from the walking part and encouraging them to walk in the middle of the road, then asked me what was for lunch as I was cleaning up breakfast, I smiled and didn't tell him where to look for lunch.

Baby steps.