So Alone

I posted a blog earlier about "Betrayal" to which some of you really seem to relate.  But there is another consequence to Betrayal.  Solitude.  When betrayed badly enough, or often enough, I (and people like me) tend to retreat behind walls.

Walls.  That's really an understatement.  After 42 years on Earth, and I've long ago lost count, my walls more closely resemble the Great Wall of China -- just not as long.  Very tall, very thick, practically impenetrable unless I choose to let you in, or choose to come out.  I assure you, those are choices I don't make very often.

Because of my self-imposed exile, I am often very lonely.  Some of you would say that is my own fault, my own choice, and you have no sympathy for me.  You are the very people that make me retreat into the safety of my barriers.  With your lack of empathy, you make me realize once again that I can't risk showing you my scars, my pain, my soul with its black shadows.  I would only guarantee judgement against me again.  Condemnation.

I feel like no one else understand.  Logically, I realize that other people feel the same way that I do, but the odds of me finding those few in a world of people bred and trained to attack are slim, so I stay behind my walls.  Occasionally, I extend a hand in friendship and trust, but it's usually an offer of trust extended to THEM, not an offer of trust OF them.  Yes, now, I feel you must prove your trust in me for me to trust you.  If I know your secrets, you are less likely to reveal mine.  Not that I would, but you don't know that.  Paranoid?  Maybe, but just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean you won't broadcast my skeletons.

There is a part of me, hidden deeply inside my walls, surrounded by moats of alligators, behind thick stone tower walls that wishes for a friend.  Just one friend to whom I could tell everything,  Just one.  But it's not to be.  My husband tries, but I can't talk to him about some things -- not that he would judge or condemn (I know he wouldn't), but he just can't understand some things.  I have a childhood friend to whom I use to tell every secret, but we're grownups now, and I hesitate to shock her with parts of my past.  I have a few people in a chat room I visit that I think are friends, but they haven't proven themselves yet, and I've been attacked in their anonymously, so my trust is even more hesitant.

Distrust and Solitude.  Twin brothers of destruction and doom.  A self-fulfilling prophecy.  A self-continuing cycle.  Each feeding off of the other.  How do you break the cycle?

I sit in my bedroom, typing these questions to you, while my husband sleeps.  He's the closest thing I've had to a friend in decades.  Yet some things he just can't understand.  And I can't burden him with those sins that he can neither understand nor fix.  Bless him, he does try to heal my wounds.  But he is a carpenter, not a doctor of souls.  As much as I love him, as much as he is my soul-mate, I short-changed him.  I sold part of my soul a long time ago.  I will never get that piece back.

So I'm alone.  And distrustful.  And that makes me feel fearful and safe simultaneously.  Which just isolates me even more because I can't explain those two emotions living in accord together.

Holiday Stress

I know it's been a while since my last post.  In my defense, I have been very busy running here, there, and everywhere.  It's just that time of year.  Plus, I'm sure none of you reading this have been sitting on pins and needles anxiously awaiting my next blog as I'm sure you have been very busy yourselves (and that first part of the statement is probably truer than I really want to admit).  But I wanted to take a couple of minutes to talk about that very thing.

My family has had something every weekend since Thanksgiving.  Seriously.  We had Thanksgiving at my family's and at my in-laws.  The next weekend began the Christmas get-togethers.  We had one for my father-in-law's family the first weekend in December.  One for my mother-in-law's family the second weekend.  One for a branch further up the in-laws' tree this last weekend.  And, of course, this weekend is Christmas so I've been running and trying to finish up the shopping.  I've cooked (or thrown something edible together) for all of these gatherings.  And I've tried to work full-time in an accounting job where we are getting ready for the end of the year.  I don't feel like I've stopped for the last 5 weeks, and I have several more weeks to go.

See New Year's weekend is my baby son's 5th birthday so we have to have a party.  And take down the Christmas tree.  And clean for the party and after the party, and even during the party since we're talking about 5-year-olds.  I'm tired just thinking about it.  Then, very shortly after that, my oldest son will turn 8.  Another party.  Then Valentine's Day.  See?  My life is one chaotic sprint from one weekend to the next from Thanksgiving through the middle of February.  I look forward to church on Sunday just so I HAVE to sit down for 2 hours.  But, I must confess, even there I'm still thinking of all I have to do at home and at work.

It's hard to enjoy the holidays when you rush around that much.  Your details may be different, but I bet your holidays are just as hectic and stressful.  I think next year, I'm going to say, "No. I'm sorry, but this year I'm going to slow down and do more with my little family unit and cut back on the stress.  I want to ENJOY my kids while they're still little."

And when I think of other people, it makes me even more determined to do that.  Because as hectic and stressful and fast-paced and exhausting as everything is, I still have my family.  I have a friend going through a divorce right now.  Divorce is stressful enough, but during Christmas?  Wow!  She has two little girls.  I can only imagine how empty her new place is going to feel when they go to their dad's for the holiday.  How quiet it's going to be without their squeals of laughter (and bickering as sisters do).  How HUGE that little place is going to feel with just my friend at home.  It makes me want to hug her close and tell her, it WILL be alright.

And it makes me want to quit griping about everything I have to do.  As much as I want to hide in a corner away from my bickering, loud, whining boys, even more she is going to want to squeeze both of her little girls in her lap at once and not let go.

Perspective.  It's all about perspective.

So next year, I'm going to say, "NO."  We're going to do less running and more playing.  Less dread and more anticipation.  Less exasperation and more laughter.  We're going to sing carols and drink hot chocolate and decorate the tree.  We may even skip Christmas cards all together.  Who would really even notice that we didn't send one?  Do you go down your friends list and check off the people that sent you one?  I don't.  I'm going to embrace the Good points of not being noticed and take full advantage of it.  I going to listen to my husband tell my boys The Real Christmas story and help him answer hard questions about how that baby boy of Mary's managed to sleep with that prickly hay poking him in the backside.  I'm going to make up stories about flying reindeer (I certainly don't understand how they do it, do you?) and bluff my way through teleportation explanations of how Santa manages to be everywhere at once (after all, Santa is not God and so he has to travel).

I'm going to hug my boys more and try to remember how much I love them when they are whining about "He hit me!" and "He won't give me my toy!" and resist the urge to write Santa and tell him just how naughty my two have been for the last 51 weeks!

I'm going to embrace the Love that is supposed to be present in this Season and try to keep it from being buried under all of the hustle and bustle and commercialism we all get sucked into.

Or maybe I won't wait.  Maybe I'll quit answering the phone and just stay home all weekend with my husband and two boys and think about what Christmas Really Means.

Merry Christmas to all of you.  I hope you have a Really Good Holiday.  Think of those less fortunate than you -- not just the underprivileged and homeless, but the ones like my friend who are spending this weekend (or part of the weekend) alone for the first time whether from divorce or maybe a loss.  If nothing else, try to remember to say a prayer for them.  They need it.  I love you all.

On Divorce

I have a friend who is going through a divorce right now.  I won't say who because I think she deserves her privacy and it is her business to tell, not mine.  But I have few thoughts on what she is going through.

The first time I experienced divorce it was my parents.  Things had not been good for years.  Long years.  We all pretended things were okay, but we knew they weren't.  Cold silences.  Tense atmospheres.  Folded blankets and a pillow on the couch.  Broken doorknobs.  Evidence that things really were not "okay."  The divorce hurt us kids.  Dad was gone.  We moved from the home we had known for all our lives.  We changed school districts and lost all of our old friends.  New ones were hard to make.  And every other weekend with dad didn't always go well either.  Everything changed, and it was all painful.

Those last few of their marriage and the first few after the divorce -- until I could go to college and escape -- were HARD.  I coped by burying everything deep, deep inside and becoming an angry, sarcastic, "tough" kid.  I didn't need anyone.  It didn't help that my new schoolmates made it very apparent that I didn't belong and never would.  That just made the isolation and anger worse.

Fortunately, I had a teacher that got through to me.  Oh, he didn't turn me around and make me a loving, caring, wonderful altruistic member of society (I doubt anyone could have done that!), but he had a HUGE stabilizing effect on me.  I may not know which roads I would have chosen without him, but I know they would have been a lot bumpier than the ones I did choose.  Because of him, I didn't make as many bad choices as I know I would have without his guidance.  In a lot of ways, Danny Alexander saved me from myself.  I eventually turned out okay, but I know in my heart that could not and would not have happened without him in my life during those two and a half years in high school when I could have let my parents' divorce and my new culture change destroy all the good in me.

The second time I experienced divorce it was my own.  I knew the day after I married that I had made a mistake.  I've often wondered how different I would be, if I had never filed the marriage license and just walked away.  But I didn't.  I stayed and I tried.  I really tried.  I loved.  I begged.  I pleaded.  I talked rationally.  I yelled irrationally.  I cried.  I gave up.  I endured.  And then HE asked for the divorce.  I cried again.  Then I was relieved.  I should probably divulge the details of my marriage for you to understand just how bad it was for me, but I won't.  All I will say is that I did everything I could to save my marriage, and I failed.  However, I don't believe that I could have saved it.  I believe that it was doomed from the start.

But even after escaping what I have described as "Four Years of Hell," I had my weak moments.  I remember a week after I left.  I was sitting on my bed, tying my shoes, getting ready for work, when all of a sudden, I thought, "Holy Shit!  I've left my husband.  What have I done?  Am I going to make it?"  Then I looked around at my apartment.  It was clean.  The bed was made.  The dishes were washed.  There were no oily footprints on the carpet.  And I could not see daylight between the walls and the floor.  My next thought was, "You Idiot!  Of course you're going to be okay!"

What I mean by that is that no matter how bad a marriage is, it still hurts when it ends.  You still doubt you're self-worth.  You still wonder if you could have done "more" to save it.  You still feel as if part of you has been amputated.

Eventually, most of that goes away.  But, if I'm going to be honest, the scars still remain.  My husband now is a wonderful man and a fantastic father.  He has his moments when he irks me, and other moments he just plain infuriates me, but I would not change him at all.  I have something unbelievably good with him and I do not want to lose it under any circumstances.  However, when we have a . . . disagreement, shall we say, those old scars start to hurt a little.  Those self-doubts come back.  Echoes of the past bounce around in my memory.  Just because that first marriage is dead doesn't mean it's ghost doesn't still walk around.

Life does get better, but the past never goes away.  We have to reconcile ourselves with our past -- something with which I still struggle.  We have to make peace with it.

Divorce hurts.  But like any physical amputation, the pain does dissipate -- sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly -- but it DOES dissipate.  Just as the marriage ended, so will the pain.

So have hope, my friend.  And remember, some of us understand.  We will listen to you vent.  We will hold you when you cry.  We will rejoice when you smile again.

As A Wife . . . Giving Thanks

This is going to be combination post.  You see, this is not only Thanksgiving week, but today is my  Anniversary.  My husband and I were married 11 years ago today, November 22nd.  11 Years.  Wow.  And I want to tell you how that came about.

My husband and I met when we were kids.  Well, I was a kid.  He was this weird teenage boy in the background that his sister and I ignored.  Boys? YUCK!

Fast forward ten years.  We meet again.  He's CUTE!  Tall, dark, handsome, with a little bit of bad-boy, and a whole lot of charm.  I fell in love.  Hard.  Fast.  Permanently.

We dated off and on for over ten years.  When we weren't dating, we were friends.  Best friends.  And, yes, now that we're married all of those secrets we shared as friends can sometimes be Too Much Information.  Lol.  But, in a way, that same sharing in friendship is the ONLY reason we're married.  And that is the story behind the story.

We've both been in other relationships, of course.  But in those ten years of off-an-on some of those other people weren't just "Other People."  They were Bad People.  Some times bad for us, sometimes just bad period.  In my case, they were both.  See, I'm not the best judge of character when it comes to men.  A couple of them (okay, most of them) were mean to me.  Not physically, because that I could have walked away from.  No, they were emotionally and mentally abusive.  Those types are more insidious.  They sneak up on you.  At first, you say, "He's just having a bad day."  Then, you start to believe him sometimes when he says, "It's your fault that I'm mad."  Then, you believe you just don't deserve anything better.  Then, you don't believe you deserve anything at all.

If you're lucky, you get out.  I was lucky.

Then, I hit the jackpot.  The Million Dollar, Once In A Lifetime, Jackpot.  My husband asked me out.  We dated.  He fell in love with me again.  I had never fallen OUT of love with him.  I had just repressed it to get on with my life.  When he asked me to marry him, I said "YES" and rushed him to the alter before he could change his mind.

But, there were still problems.  My problems that became his problems.  Those past relationships, the ones I mentioned above, well, they left scars.  Not healed little white scars you have to look for to find.  In fact, they weren't really even scars.  They were more like gaping, bloody, infected wounds that I had covered with band-aids and hoped would go away.  They didn't.

J. got to play doctor (and not the fun kind of "doctor" game girls and boys play).  He got to deal with all of those trust issues, and incompetency feelings, and depressive withdrawal from him.  Our first -- and worst -- fight was over Christmas lights.  Seriously, it was over Christmas lights.  He asked me what kind I wanted to buy for the house.  Icicle lights or colored lights or just plain white string lights?  I said I didn't care.  HE said (and I can still remember it to this day), "I asked you.  When I ask for your opinion on something I. Want.  Your.  Opinion.  I do NOT want to hear 'I don't care.'  Do you understand me."  And, no, that last was NOT a question.  All of this was said in a tone of voice barely above a whisper, so no one else in Wally World heard him.  And that made it even more . . . impressive.

And that friendship I told you helped?  Well, see, I had watched him go through other relationships, also.  Not only did I know what HE had been through, I had seen how he reacted to THEIR behavior.  I KNEW I could trust him.  Not an I-know-in-my-heart-I-can-trust-him type of trust.  I knew because I had SEEN him go through the worst and I had SEEN how he reacted.  I had proof.  I trusted because he had already proved I could trust him.

He saved me.  He saved me from myself.  He saved me from my past.  He saved me from my wounds.  I had loved him for years, I love him now, and I will love him forever.  He is my savior, my heart, my soul-mate, and my world.  Unless you have that, you can't understand that kind of love.

It's an old-fashioned, all-the-way-to-the-bone love.  If (God Forbid!) I lost him tomorrow, a very large part of me would die.  I know that.  When I even think about things like that, I feel part of my heart and part of my soul shrink backward in fear.  This is the fairy tale love that I believed in as a little girl and scoffed at as an young adult.  Real Love Does Exist.  I found it.

He's not perfect.  He snores.  He gets cranky.  He snores.  He misunderstands me sometimes.  He snores.  He drives like an old man sometimes -- sloooooowly.  And, did I mention he snores?  He's not perfect.  But he is Perfect For Me.

He is a wonderful husband.  He's an unbelievably good father.  He helps me clean house.  He vacuums and mops because it hurts my back.  He works long hours to make enough money to take care of me and the kids.  He is patient.  He is kind.  He has a great sense of humor.  He is a gentleman.

I don't deserve him.  I never have, and I never will.  I treat him badly sometimes.  But he makes me strive to be better, to be more deserving of him.

He is Mine.  And I give Thanks to God Every Day for my husband.

I Love You, J.  More than you know, more than you can imagine, and more than I ever thought I was capable of.  Happy Anniversary, Honey.  Eleven years......and hopefully, another fifty or sixty.

Betrayal

Why is betrayal so much a part of life?  Is there any among us who has not been betrayed?

I have been betrayed by men, by acquaintences, by friends, even by family.  Amazing. I never expect it, yet it happens. I will even say I am sure that I have betrayed someone. But this blog is a public forum, so please forgive me for not treating it as a Confessional.

I'm sure we have all been betrayed by a lover. What young girl has not had her heart broken by a boy? Why else is the divorce rate so high if not for betrayal?  Whether it is our heart that is betrayed, or our trust, it is still betrayal and it still hurts. Truth be told, I I have been accused of breaking a heart or two myself.  They trusted me with their heart, and I betrayed that trust.

Acquaintences, too, have betrayed me  sometimes.  Gossip is gossip is gossip.  Seriously, what else are you going to trust with someone you barely know?  Betrayal here is just proof that we should not spread stories about other people. And lest you think I am being sanctimonious, I willingly admit I have a lot of trouble with this. Sometimes I discuss people with other people out of concern, but (I have to confess) sometimes I do it out of malicious glee over some disliked person's misfortune. I am ashamed of it, but I am guilty of it.  

Friends......or people we thought were friends. To trust someone with our most intimate secrets and have that betrayed can be agony. We gave a shovel and a map of where all of our skeletons are buried to someone who went and put those dirty old bones on display for the world to see. Ouch. That forces us to cut off a friendship, and hurts as much as any physical amputation. The longer and deeper the friendship was before the betrayal, the worse the amputation and resulting phantom pain.

Family betrayals are worse than any other though.  "Blood is thicker than water." Except when isn't. These people are the ones we are supposed to be able to trust above all others. These are the people that are supposed to stand WITH us against all others, against the entire world if necessary.  When they betray us, it feels like an assassination.  They killed a piece of our heart.  That part of us will never trust again. It will never love again.  That piece is dead.

Betrayal. It can cause so much damage.  It has caused friendships to end.  It has caused feuds that have lasted from hours to generations.  It has caused families to disintegrate. It has caused marriages to end in divorce.  It has even caused suicides and murder. Betrayal has resulted in the death of so many things and so many people.

And all of it could be avoided. We all just need to stop and think before we speak.  We need to stop and think before we act.  We need to stop and think. STOP and THINK.  Would we want someone to say that to us?  Would we want someone to do that to us?

Several years ago, my husband and I went to a Marriage Retreat.  One of the things they taught us (or tried to) was, before we speak, ask ourselves, "Are the words I am about to speak Kind? Are they Necessary?  Are they True?" If the answer to ANY of those three questions is "No" then just don't say them.  Simple.

We should all try to think about that more often.  I know by my own scars that other people should.   I know by my own guilt that I definitely should.

What about you?  How many scars do you have?  How much guilt do you carry?

This blog is not an indictment of myself or of you, the reader. It is just my own thoughts and experiences mixed with inquiry. Did I make you think?  Yes?  Good. Self-reflection is good for the soul. I hope I made you think. I hope we all will stop and think more often.  If not, well, maybe next time.

As a Not-So-Strong Woman.....

My last post was about being "A Strong Woman." But this hasn't been the best month for me, so I thought I would talk about the flip side of the coin - being a "Not-So-Strong Woman.".

We have all had them. Days when nothing seemed to go right. Days that seemed to last foooooorrreveeeeeer with Nothing being accomplished. Days when the kids seemed to STAY on our last nerve, and then jump up and down on it. Days when we fought back tears all day for no apparent reason. I dare you to deny you had at least one of those days.

Sometimes there is a reason. Maybe we had a fight with our Significant Other. Maybe our child got in trouble at school. Maybe we had a car wreck. Maybe we burned supper.  Sometimes there is a reason.

But sometimes there isn't. For some reason, we just can't be cheerful. We can't laugh.  Everything seems to be going wrong. We snap at our Significant Other. We lose our patience with our kids. We lose our temper at work. And we don't know why.

Reason or no, we feel . . . Not-So-Strong. But we keep going. We may take a time-out for ourselves and try to get ourselves together, but we come back. We push on through even if there is no fight left in us. We are Not-So-Strong, but we keep on doing what has to be done.

We are Women. There is no other choice for us.

We are Women.  We keep going. Like the Energizer Bunny, we keep going.

We are Women. We ignore our weakness. No, we find Strength in our weakness.

We are Women. We are Strong even when we are Not-So-Strong.

We Are Women.

But Men, when you see your woman feeling Not-So-Strong (and you may really have to pay attention to tell because we're good at hiding those things), be there for us.  Don't try to "fix" us, for sometimes we can't be "fixed," we can only be mended with time.  Instead, Help us.  Hug us.  Hold us.  Appreciate us.  Love us.

Sometimes, a helping hand that we aren't expecting can do wonders.  Sometimes, a quick hug can energize us.  Sometimes, holding us for a few moments (and maybe let us shed a few silent tears) can mean the world to us.  Sometimes, a simple "Thank You" can revive us.  Sometimes, a heartfelt "I Love You" can work miracles.

We Are Women. . . . but we aren't always quite so strong.

As a Strong Woman.......

We Women feel the need to be strong.  We have to be.  There is so much we must do, so much we are for which we are held responsible (by ourselves if no one else does), so little time for all we need to get done.  Sometimes it's too much.  Sometimes we would like to be weak, just for a moment....we want to give in to the pressure and collapse, just for a moment.......but then who would pick up our load and carry on?

So we're strong.  We do what must be done.  In some ways -- emotional ways, mental ways -- we can be as strong as men, stronger than some, because we must be.  Our loads force us to be.  We wake up in the morning; we do this here, and we go there, we take care of this, and we handle that, and finally we will go to sleep and dream of things yet to be done.  Like the old adage, "A woman's work is never done."  And it is true.  Whether you or young or not so young, a working woman or housewife, working mother or stay-at-home-mommy, whether your children are infants, toddlers, school-aged, teenagers, or grown and gone, the chores are endless.

The chores are endless.......and so is the worry about what has to be done, the stress of deciding how those chores will get done, the feelings of inadequacy when they don't get done.  A vicious cycle we women suffer every day.  Most days, however, we're fine.  This is our life and we are content with it; Happy even.  But occasionally......

To me, and to most women I believe, if someone takes to time to actually "see" us, and realize we're NOT okay, the support for that moment is overwhelming.....and it can give us the strength to go on, to continue doing what must be done.  It repletes what we have exhausted, the one resource we need above almost all others.

So the next time you see a woman working seemingly tirelessly, non-stop, whether she is getting a lot accomplished or appearing to go nowhere, stop and LOOK at her, "see" her, and if she needs a hug, give her one.  Sometimes a hug can do wonders.  An acknowledgement of how much she has accomplished can lift flagging spirits.  Words of appreciation and thanks spoken from the heart of a loved one can bring joy.  All three can work miracles.

Know that your women (daughter, wife, mother, friend) is STRONG.  She deals with things every day that you know nothing about.  She probably has scars she doesn't want to burden you with when they hurt her.  Believe in her.  Support her.  And when she feels weak, hold her.  Love her.  Let her be weak for a moment.  Tell her that it's Okay to let go.You will see a stronger woman emerge from your embrace.  And a greater bond will have developed between the two of you for sharing that moment.