Realizations

I wrote in my journal yesterday. It went something like this:

I started eating Paleo on June 1st. I’ve made a few exceptions, but all in all, it’s really not that bad.

I realized something about myself, I had to be honest. I said the words, I got married, but I have been one toe out the door the whole time. Not because I wanted to be, but because I am scared, and my history of relationships has left me expecting that “something will always go wrong”. And then it did. My husband is a good man, and he IS the one that I want. And he DOES, no matter what HE has done, deserve someone who will be “all-in”. It would be easy to say HE lied, HE hid, HE wasn’t all-in, but that also wouldn’t be fair, and it doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t be fair because it doesn’t take into account MY behavior. How I’ve been holding my breath. Grateful for this man and still, somehow, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I promised love, I promised faithfulness, I promised honesty, … I promised partnership. A true partner believes and supports, a true partner doesn’t support from one side and look for fault from the other. Oh yeah, you have to be honest. I’m not saying, support blindly. But I’m not saying that to do what I have been doing is right either. It isn’t fair. Not to my husband, and not to our marriage. And it doesn’t matter, all the “but HE did this and that …” because I can only focus on me. 

If you believe in karma, or God, or anything of the sort as you understand it, then this might make sense. One day, a few years ago, after ending another unsuccessful romance, I made a list to myself of everything I wanted in a partner. A list of good traits, abilities etc, and I even included room for reality, for mistakes, flaws. And I promised my higher power that as long as I was granted the patience to handle those flaws, I would be grateful for all the other gifts that this person would be to me. And in many, many, many ways, my husband is EXACTLY everything I asked for. Remember that expression your mom used to say, “Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.” My God sent me a man who is every single thing I asked for, and who is also afflicted with an addiction to  the one thing I hate. Now, I don’t believe, not for one second, that this was coincidence. I believe that it was to see -“How bad do you REALLY want it and how hard are you willing to work to KEEP it?” 

I believe this to be true. 

This is up to me. I cannot change my husband. I can only change me. I can only work on ME. 

Such a hard, hard, hard thing to realize. Harder still to do. 

 

And that’s about all that I wrote. As I was cleaning yesterday, I was thinking to myself. I always find that cleaning allows me room to vent my thoughts and cycle through them in a way that is more productive than when I stew idly. Anyway, I had some other realizations. 

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, my husband’s particular addiction is sex, or more specifically pornography. At least, as far as I know and understand it. 

I come from a line of women affected by men’s sex addictions. I hadn’t realized that until yesterday. It had never even occurred to me. I don’t know too much about my great grandmother, I only know that she had children by two different men, who had affairs, and once she divorced the second time, she chose never to remarry, telling my mom “Why would I do that?! I like my life on my terms, I’m happy to do what I choose to do.” My grandmother, my mom’s mom, married young and spent a lot of that time, as she gave birth to 8 children, sick, in and out of state hospitals for depression and in diabetic comas. Unfortunately, she married a man who would abuse her children, in every unspeakable way. One of those children was my mother. 

My mother married at 19, to a good man. Someone that she felt she could trust, someone she had known since she was 9. My father is 5 years older and wanted to take her away from the life he knew she was living. He had the best of intentions. But I feel sad to think that maybe too much damage had already been done. My parents are still married, not happily, but they come from a generation that doesn’t divorce at the drop of a hat. I can’t remember too many overly happy displays of love between the two of them. I do remember my mom always suspicious, always questioning him about other women, always hounding him about looking at commercials or tv shows to see racy images…I remember her always on edge, setting him on edge, setting the house in a tense fog. They were not exactly what the other person wanted, my parents, but they are what they got. I think, maybe, had they tried a very long time ago, to work together, to learn how the other person wanted to be loved and to work past the pain from my mother’s childhood, that they could have had a happy life. As it stands from where I can see, the happiest things they share are myself and my two brothers. These days, there’s not much left that they have in common. I wish I could change that.

And then it occurred to me. Like a slap in the face. I am on a very similar path. If I don’t DEAL with this, if I don’t CONFRONT this, if I continue to let my fears and worries and suspicions and anger RULE me … 

My grandfather (a man I never met because my mother would not allow it for any of us) did unspeakable things and I wish that my grandmother had had the courage to leave him, but she didn’t. My father, IS a good man, and I wish that my mother had had the courage to work through the pain and hurt from her past, so that she may have had a happy life with him, but she didn’t, and hasn’t and most likely … won’t. 

And now it’s my turn. I sit here, an echo of these women, with scars from their fears that have no doubt helped to shape some of my own, and I cling to my anger. I cling to my fear. I cling to my suspicion. And I live out the very same path that they did. Will MY children grow up wishing that I had been stronger, that I had been happier? Will they see me, running through the fears in my mind, and learn to shape their worlds like me too? 

I want this cycle to END with me. I want to draw on the strength that is there within me and do the work that it takes to get through and past this, to a place where I AM happier. To the place that I wish I could give to my grandmother and mother. I want to get there, so that if I ever have a daughter, she will KNOW, it exists. I want to get there because I deserve to. We all do. 

So sorry for the long post, I’ve just been emotional lately =) 

-Rain

Enough

Such a little crab. Sometimes I feel like such a little crab. Side step. Scurry. Quick snap. Duck and dive! Hide, hide, hide and when you can’t hide – put ’em up. Let’s see who can withstand the claw!

And then? I duck in my shell, and wait. And wonder. Where did everyone go? Where did they go?

It’s been a particularly rough past several days. Not rough outside, where anyone can see. But inside. Me and myself in the shell. We’ve been torturing ourselves. Or more like tormenting.

Oh I’m a first-rate wallower, I am. I spent so much of this past week thinking, “Why????” and “How will anything ever be right again?” and “I am nothing anymore to him. I am nothing.” … Nothing. Wait. What? Who said that? How dare you call me nothing! Everyone is someone! There is no one that deserves to be called a nothing or a no one. How could you say that? How could you be so careless? So hurtful?

Do you ever stop to realize that? To listen to the things that you say to yourself? Would you say them to someone else? It’s very often so much easier to be our own critics than our own best friend. Not good enough, not thin enough, not strong enough, not smart enough, not cool enough, not enough, not enough, not enough …

ENOUGH! Let me breathe! I’m not perfect. I’m not the best or greatest. But I’M NOT DONE. And for everything I am and everything I need and everything I will become – I AM ENOUGH.

I’m exhausted today from beating myself up yesterday and the day before. That’s enough now. Time to heal. Or at the very least, rest and breathe. There’s no one in here fighting with you but yourself. Don’t you know that’s a battle that’s lose/lose?? Maybe, instead of fighting, you should be lifting yourself up. Instead of holding yourself back, you should be setting your sights and propelling yourself forward (even if it’s only one small step at a time). And maybe, instead of tearing yourself down with everything you are not, you should be wrapping yourself up in the courage and strength of everything you are and are yet to become. Maybe THAT would be a better use of YOUR time, self. I said to myself, “Self, with all due respect, shut the hell up! You’re better than that. Now start acting like it.”

…

And there’s your glimpse into my self-talk today. I pray that you can lift yourself up today. That you make the choice to be your own friend, no matter what life is handing you, YOU choose to see a glimmer in the distance of a you that you have always wanted to be and will become. Do you see him? Do you see her? No? Then maybe it’s time you decided to look hard enough.

– Rain

Another Sleepless Night

It’s not that I can’t sleep. I’m sure that I could. If I really tried. If I just flipped the switch in my brain. If I just changed my personality and didn’t feel the need to hash out every issue I have until it’s solved, immediately. But I haven’t (because I can’t find that damn switch), and I can’t (because for better or worse, me is me is only ever gonna be me), and I do (because I’m stubborn. As a mule.).

Hello, my name is … Rain. I should tell you right off that I’ve changed all names to protect the innocent. It’s not out of fear or shame of expressing myself. It’s out of recognizing that some things aren’t mine to tell. Some stories, that involve my loved ones, friends, co-workers, are personal and I cannot comfortably spill my guts about everything that affects me without acknowledging how that simple act could affect them. So forgive my anonymity, I don’t want to lie to you, but some of the things I have to say in the course of this blog, however long that may be, may be serious or sensitive and so … Hello, my name is Rain. And I am married to an addict.

Bombshell drop! Just so you know, I don’t intend for all my posts to be about my husband, our relationship, my need to control and my struggle to realize that I will only ever have control over myself. Sometimes I will write about food. Or work. Or my family. Maybe I will tell you about my dog, Louie. (Yup, changed his name too, he’s an older shelter adopted dog, I don’t want to offend him either.) Maybe I will tell you about my from a distance interest in crossfit, or the Paleo 30 Day challenge I’m about to throw myself into. Maybe about Yoga. Who knows, it could be anything. But suffice it to say I will ramble, as you can tell. And you can like it or not, read or not, but I’m just going to go on about whatever happens to be stewing in my noggin at, oh, whatever-thirty in the late night or early morning it happens to be. And I hope that somewhere someone can say – “Ha! I’m not alone! I don’t sleep either!” Actually, I hope you are all sleeping soundly and reading this in the calm light of beautiful day. I wish insomnia on no one. Not even my husband, who’s silences unhinge me to the core of my being.

I know, I haven’t really said anything yet, have I? Tonight is a sad night. We came off a good week, you see. Last week. We were happy. Mostly. He said many times over that it felt like old us. That it felt good again. And then he had a hiccup. A tiny little lie. I knew it was a lie when it left his mouth. So I asked for clarification again. Again the lie, back turned to me, messing with the DVD player. I asked again, same question, same tone. Again the lie, now taking too long with his back still to me. I asked again and then before I could hear the lie, I stated what we both knew was the truth, and then just said “Right?” And he said, “Yes.”

And I lost it. And that was last Friday. The end of date night. A really fantastic date night, I must add. And the end of the “good” week. And now, just because of that one tiny lie, I am spiraling. Backwards and down into the past year. Where lies were the norm and they were delivered with anything from smiles and embraces to stony one-word sentences. You name it, I’ve heard it.

We haven’t been married a year. It’s May. We were married last October. We’re off to a great start. She said sarcastically. I will explain more. And I can, and I should, and I will. But right now I should really go back to our bed and try and get some sort of sleep. I will say the serenity prayer over and over to myself for a bit, see if it helps. I will try a couple yoga poses that are meant to relax the body in preparation for sleep.

And I will kiss my husband and tell him goodnight. Because what I really want to do is wake him up and fight. But that will get us nowhere. Today’s 12 step meeting (sometimes I go to the ones for friends and family of addicts, sometimes I go to the meetings for addicts) topic was on anger, and how we deal with it. It was a perfect topic for me, with my naturally high temper and low patience.  One person speaking said, “If I live in the problem, the problem persists. If I live in the solution, the solution will eventually become my reality.” So … fighting tonight, living in the problem, will only hurt us both. I give myself over to sleep and pray that it wants me for company.

Goodnight all, good to be here, talk again real soon.

Rain