Category: My Wasband

reflections on the one-year milestone

My ex moved out a year ago today.

Thinking about that still hurts my heart just a little. There’s a tender spot as I reflect on the heartache and pain I suffered (and just as likely caused for another) in my marriage, as well as the failure to provide my children what I believed was so important to give them — a solid, secure and loving family environment.

(As I write this, Dusty Springfield has rotated into my iTunes playlist with I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself. Would you call that ironic?)

The melancholy in reflecting on this stems from two sources:  First, that I loved so much and so deeply and yet didn’t know how to love, as surely causing pain to object of my love as he did to me. Second, that I chose so poorly in the first place. It’s difficult to accept that I knew so little about myself or was blind to so many signs that I picked a partner who would draw out so much pain and anger, forcing me to deal with them and grow (while he simply pointed fingers). I can’t help but believe there had to have been a kinder, gentler way to learn these lessons.

(And now Joan Armatrading’s Willow — “I said I’m strong, straight, willing to be your shelter in the storm…”)

I still remember the first day of it being just us:  my two elementary-school-age children and me. I explained to them that, without Daddy here every day to do things for them, they would have to help out by making their own school lunches, among other things. I assured them I would step in to help when needed, and that we were all capable and would be fine taking responsibility for ourselves and helping each other.

This is when my son teared up, “I don’t know if I can do it, Mommy.” He is a tender-hearted young soul, and so generous with his empathy and feelings! He continued to stress through the evening and even as I tucked him in to bed. My daughter, on the other hand, was excited about being given more independence and responsibility.

The next morning, everyone got up just a little earlier and pushed through the morning tasks of dressing, eating breakfast, making lunch, etc. just a little more diligently. We all got out the door on time, successfully. My favorite moment was at the end of the day when my son remarked, “Mommy, I guess I didn’t even need to worry.”

These past twelve months have also brought a number of lessons and much growth. I recall feeling that taking out the trash and recycling wasn’t really adding to my workload. And I also remember discovering other areas where my ex picked up more slack than I ever realized or gave him credit for. It hasn’t always been easy, and there have been plenty of hiccups along the way — my ex appears to be declining to communicate with me right now, as an example. Yet I can’t help feeling that we’ve come a long way.

My children have gained patience, self-reliance, a greater understanding that their parents are merely human and the capacity to be more helpful and responsible than I might have thought possible for their ages. (And still I work to balance this with their need for innocence.)

As for me, I am gaining confidence in making the choices and life decisions that nurture me. I am seeing more clearly what happens when I neglect to do important things that I’d prefer to ignore (the banking, taxes and money management, for instance). I am growing stronger, more clear and determined in my life path. And I am learning how empowering it is to commit to my own happiness, even if it requires making choices that once seemed impossible.

(Citizen Cope If There’s Love)

So I keep going back to my son’s wise words:  “I guess I didn’t need to worry.”

doctor’s orders

About 13 months ago…

When I went to see my counsellor to talk through all the bizarre sexual / commitment swirl going on around me (and ultimately to decide whether to stay at Max’s family’s home while on vacation), she told me something else:

“Even if your husband hasn’t moved out, I think you should go out and have sex. It will help make the separation more real for you and allow you to move forward in your life.”

If this wasn’t ground-breaking psychotherapy, I’m not sure what to call it! Throughout it all, I had tried my best to take the high road, to be respectful and behave honorably. Clearly my sexual needs were not being met, but I was hoping to change that once my ex moved out. And now I was being offered a hall pass to go out and “have sex like a man” for a few months, regardless of whether we were still living under the same roof.

To be honest, I’ve never been a pick-up artist. And if I didn’t know how to pick up men in my twenties, I certainly didn’t know how the hell to do it as a frumpy mother of two! Actually, I barely even dated around, except for a few months in college. I’ve spent most of my life, since my teenage years, as a serial monogamist. By this time, I may have had one or two encounters/partners in my entire life that I would consider casual. (This does not count all those relationships that, now, I can look back and simply classify as stupid.)

And now I had doctor’s orders to go out and find a casual partner and — perhaps most importantly — not allow myself to get attached.

I left the office considering the possibilities:  I would be on the prowl. I could be a cougar. I would commit to getting myself laid, stat!

But first, I went out and bought a Bliss Bikini Perfect grooming kit.

keeping my imaginary relationship in check

Yesterday I wrote that I tend to compare new men I meet against an “ideal” I already know, therefore allowing these potential “new” men little opportunity to make an impression in their own right. My behavior of making these comparisons can have the negative side effects of my feeling reluctant to meet new people, not being truly open or available to the potential in others and strengthening my attachment to an absurd imaginary relationship. And it’s entirely possible that I sounded just a little obsessed.

But I think having a high water mark against whom to compare new guys has a positive side:  I have often tended to be a push-over in personal relationships, saying yes to everything and wasting time with people and on activities that don’t add anything meaningful to my life. In particular, let’s consider the online dating experience — there are so many men out there, so many who seem so earnest and eager — and who knows? As my wise friend Adonis (ha!) once said, “How are you to know who will love you best?” Well, guess what? When I’m feeling strong and centered and think of my high water mark, it’s pretty easy to see that I’d be wasting my time with those guys who can’t complete a sentence. The idea of a high water mark then serves the positive purpose of keeping me focused and aiming high. And I normally hold this “ideal” in a healthy, detached way in my mind. It’s potential energy, nothing more. Okay, maybe a little bit more.

But as I wrote yesterday’s post, I was feeling a bit unbalanced, insecure and under the influence of estrogen. (I really believe PMS should be considered a perfectly valid reason for absolutely anything for which a woman wishes to invoke it.) Besides hormones, there was another contributing factor for my being a little wrapped up in my imagined relationship:  While I was meditating, emptying my mind and opening myself to possibility, a vision of this particular fellow popped in to my head. I am occasionally visited by visions — some prophetic — that seem to come out of the ether. They are not created by my conscious mind, nor do they appear at my own will. These “visions” are very realistic, detailed and persistent. Perhaps “vision” is not even the right word, because I can see as a witness — as though I’m out of my body — what’s happening; meanwhile I’m feeling, smelling, tasting, hearing — experiencing through all of my senses. It’s rather bizarre, actually, and the realistic nature of these little interludes is what makes them so darned difficult to shake!

For example, from the time I began dating my (now ex) husband, I regularly saw visions of a child between us. It’s true that I wanted a child and was in love with him, but the very clear picture of me, him and our girl baby came out of nowhere. I could art direct a photo shoot that would exactly replicate my vision to this day. It was that clear, and the memory of it remains that clear. And this vision became a reality.

So when a vision of my high water mark man in the shower with me interrupted my meditation yesterday, it seemed incredibly real and true — not to mention pretty damn hot! But I was meditating and tried to bring my focus back to my breathing, yet the next thing I knew…I could feel every sensation of his hands on my soapy skin; I smelled the soap and the faint scent of chlorine vaporizing from the steamy water; I felt the water wash over us, his hot breath on my ear and the way each part of me warmed to his touch; I heard the water streaming and his voice in my ear…You get the idea, and I don’t want to turn this blog into soft porn. One might be able to gather how difficult it was to put this experience out of my mind and maintain my sense of perspective!

Even though some (thank heavens not all) of my past visions have manifested in my life, I try not to give them too much power or thought. That which is right will come into my life — I prefer to believe with detachment.

And you’ll be happy to know that today I’m back in balance, having put my high water mark in proper, useful perspective.

no more sex

About 18 months ago…

There was simply no emotional intimacy in my marriage any longer. My husband was dishonest and had made decisions that affected our family without talking to me; the betrayals were insidious. My mistrust was so complete that I was constantly wondering what and when the next big betrayal would be. I had lost hope. And I had already determined to end it.

So it came as a surprise to me when, after so many months of abstinence, my husband complained about not getting any sex.

I raged, “How can you expect physical intimacy when you’ve denied me emotional intimacy for so long?! It goes both ways.”

The fact is, I enjoy sex. I probably wanted it more than he did. And I always found him physically attractive. But I couldn’t even look him in the eye anymore, much less share myself in such an intimate way.

But I think the bigger question is this:  Are men really that clueless? Do they really think if they’re not getting any, that they have nothing to do with it?

Oh, wait…I think I may be able to answer this one myself…

waiting is torture

About a year ago…

My husband had agreed to move out. We had discussed this in September.

He first said he would try to be out by October 31. And then he was going to try to move out by Thanksgiving. And when that failed to become a material reality, he stopped providing me updates.

As autumn became winter, the atmosphere inside our home chilled just as the weather outdoors. I was tired of waiting for my life to begin again. I was tired of being on edge. And I was tired of a surly man sleeping on the sofa, impeding my ability to do a morning yoga routine.

If I had felt as though I were walking on pins and needles during much of my marriage, I was now tip-toeing. Where we’d had a communication break-down in the past, we now avoided each other almost completely. It was miserable, torturous.

Finally, I drafted a few bullet points of what I thought might be a good “agreement” on my computer, offered him some cash to move out by March 1, and handed it to him.

We now had a timeline, and a basis for the discussions I would have with my lawyer. Forward ho!

the moment of opportunity

About 16 months ago…

My ex did a really dumb thing. I mean aside from all the dumb things that he did throughout our relationship, including eventually losing me. The really dumb thing he did was to get pulled over after having a few drinks. When the phone rang that night at 10:30pm, I didn’t answer. When it rang again, I knew there was bad news.

The sad thing about it was that I’d been waiting for it. I was pretty sure that the time would come when he would make the choice to drive after drinking too much. And, frankly, I think many (if not most) of us have probably also made that choice once or more and realized after the fact that we were past the point at which we should have been operating heavy machinery (i.e. a vehicle).

When he arrived home at 3:30am and crawled into bed, he reached to me. And he said, “I really want to turn things around. But I need a loving relationship to do it.”

This from a man who had, more than a year ago, pronounced me manipulative and controlling, then threatened to leave. Never once did he apologize, explain himself or make any attempt to make amends. And now it seemed that he was pushing responsibility off on me, again. He was to be charged with Driving Under the Influence (Driving While Intoxicated?), and it was because I wasn’t loving enough?! Bullshit!

I said, “I really hope you turn things around, for yourself and for your children.” And I rolled back over and went back to sleep.

But I was glad it happened, for two reasons:

  • He had finally acknowledged that there was no longer love in our relationship and opened the door for communication about it.
  • I no longer feared that he could ask for primary physical custody of our children. With all my travel, it’s possible he might have been able to argue that he was the primary caregiver and a stable force in our children’s lives. In the case he wanted to argue, I now had a counter point.

A few days later, I approached him while he was sitting on the sofa. I reminded him that he had asked for a loving relationship and told him that I didn’t want to try any longer. I told him that I had lost hope for us. And I explained that I had imagined every possible scenario, and could see no other way for the children to continue to live in our home but for him to move out.

It was one of the saddest, scariest and most empowering moments in my life. But it absolutely, positively had to happen.

And he agreed.

another break-up coming

While strolling through the bookstore on my lunch break today, I picked up a random book on relationships. I’ve been a little stressed lately, and snappish with my children at times… so when I saw a chapter on verbal abuse, I was compelled to look more closely to see if I could recognize myself among some of the highlighted behaviors and find some alternative ways to deal.

Instead, I found myself recognizing my ex…in many more ways than I ever anticipated. On some level, I was consciously aware of his means to undermine me throughout our relationship. And my growing strength in myself was what ultimately tore our marriage apart. Yet this book opened my eyes to a level of subtle and insidious behaviors that pervaded our relationship from start to finish. I’m ashamed to confess there were times that I didn’t stand up for myself or draw immediate boundaries (I found many new tools for dealing with verbal abuse in this book) — largely because I was caught so completely off guard that someone I loved — and who allegedly loved me — could possibly behave in such a hurtful and inappropriate way.

But I think the bigger realization I had today was that there’s another abusive relationship I need to break:  my job. I’m not in a bad “situation” there; no one is verbally abusing me. Rather, the nature of going into a place every day that no longer nurtures my passion nor values the tremendous assets I bring is causing me more harm than good.

I recently told my ex I was going to look for a new job. His response, “What, for $XX grand a year, you can’t give them what they want?!”

I said, “No. What they want is not in my nature.”

It’s a big company. We are all bound, at times, to feel like cogs in a wheel. So I’m going to find a place where my experience and skills are respected and rewarded.

I guess, with more presence of mind, I might have responded to my ex: “What? To save your marriage, home and family, you couldn’t stop drinking, see a counsellor and get a decent job!?”

But those things probably weren’t in his nature, either.

love is a verb

Sure, love is something we feel. But, more importantly, it’s something we do.

It’s something Stephen Covey talks about in his 7 Habits training. And there are actually several books by this title.

But I’m here to write about how this applies to men.

Men can be very charming and sweet and well-intended. They’ll say things that make your heart swoon. And the truth is, they often mean those things when they say them . . . it’s just that they maybe got busy with something else and forgot. We’ve all met guys who can talk smooth and woo any woman they meet.

And that’s exactly why you have to pay attention to their actions.

One of my neighbors is burly, acerbic and gruff. In fact, he’s more than a little intimidating before you get to know him. By all accounts, this is not the type of man one might consider even dating. But he is married to a sweet and strong woman who adores him. How is this? If you could just imagine he had a volume and you turned it all the way down, you would see that his actions are constantly full of love. He has remodeled their home on evenings and weekends; he is obsessed with the quality of the lawn; he took three days vacation to plan, prepare and host his wife’s 40th birthday party; he does anything she asks. In short, he treats her like a queen.

In your next interaction, don’t get so caught up in the words. Sure, his words are cues, and the conversation has got to be good. But his actions will tell you everything you need to know. Does he have great manners? Do you feel completely amazing when you’re with him because of how he behaves toward you? Does he speak kindly of others? Step back from the passion and fantasy and infatuation and really observe. How he treats you, treats others and treats his family are important signs of how he’s going to treat you and others in the future.

Love is blind.  I was so in love with my husband during our courtship that I took him for his word and missed important cues that might have saved me (or at least prepared me for) a lot of heartache later. If I had been paying closer attention to what he was doing than what he was saying, I might have seen some of those disasters coming.

baggage my ex left

I learned a lot in a decade of marriage to my ex. I developed several positive habits, and I loved the feelings I would get early in our relationship when I realized some wonderful change my husband had brought about in me. Love transforms. And that’s beautiful.

But relationships can also wreak great damage and destruction.

We all come with baggage, expectations or perspectives imposed or imprinted upon us through our upbringing, life experiences and major relationships.

Following are examples of the emotional baggage from my marriage that I need to shed:

I’ve let myself go and am undesirable.

I’ve come clean about the fact that I’ve put on a few pounds (like nearly 30) since having a second child or turning 35 or whatever reason / excuse I give myself. My ex used to tell others (I learned after I ended our marriage) that I “had let myself go.” He constantly judged others based on their weight. He made a joke of taking photos of me only when I was eating (as if to show that was all I did). And his lagging libido didn’t exactly make me feel desirable, either. One way he could feel good about himself was his body — he was sexy and fit and attractive, even at more than a decade my senior.

Truth is, I am well-proportioned and attractive — I come from good stock, and my DNA allows me the blessing of being able to wear a few extra pounds better than most people can. I’ve had more than a few guys (and a few gals) indicate that they find me sexy or attractive. Sure, I’d like to release some extra poundage, but I don’t let that stand in the way of living to the fullest. I accept myself for the sexy, curvy woman that I am, while working to create positive, healthy change from here.

I’m materialistic because I want things.

Another of the ways my ex made up for his own insecurities (he was not a good earner) was to scorn me for having wants and desires. Anyone who knows me is aware that I’m not a bigger- or more-is-better kind of gal. I live lean and green. I like having things around me that are nice, that function, that are beautiful and give me feelings of comfort, peace and security. I want a new car not because my old one is not good enough, but because it’s falling apart and I don’t feel safe. I’d like to take some road trips, and I’m not comfortable venturing outside of the city in the current state of my jalopy. I like receiving gifts because I feel considered. I like wearing nice sunglasses because I’m more likely to keep track of and take care of them than I am a drugstore pair, which ultimately saves money in the long run. I like to travel internationally and consider the experience an investment.

My ex never cared to understand or accept these things and tried to make me feel small for my innate tendencies. And now I have to learn to let go of his judgment and allow myself to want things, and to know that it’s okay to have wants, and to share my wants and desires. Because I feel pretty sure there are others out there who will help me in my path, rather than stand in the way.

I suspect there are more ugly bags that I’ll find and release over the next months, and probably some that I won’t locate until I’m in another relationship. I hope, by then, that I’ve developed the wisdom and insight and tools to manage to clean them up in a way that’s mature and respectful. But in the mean time, I think I’ll use a sledgehammer on these old, worn-out beliefs…if I can only figure out how to do it!