I realized this morning that I’ve come to dread Christmas.
Years ago I bought Husband a Thai cookbook for his birthday. He’d always enjoyed cooking, and had discovered Thai food as several inexpensive Thai restaurants blossomed around Seattle. I was so excited for him to open his present, and was crushed when he seemed almost insulted by my gift. The details of what was said have faded with time, but I was left with low-level dread about giving Husband gifts that has increased with the passing years.
My experience was that Husband always felt dissatisfied with gifts, particularly at Christmas. He never seemed to feel he’d gotten exactly what he wanted, and always seemed to feel slighted when given gifts that weren't "him," declaring them impersonal. He could never look past the thing to appreciate the thought and effort that had gone into getting the gift, and the care that it expressed. So I’ve learned to ask for a List and just shop from that rather than to try to put any thought into something special that I think up myself.
At the top of Husband’s list this year was an iPhone. He was also lobbying hard for Guitar Hero. But he’s being laid off in January and I’ve had a slow 4th quarter, so I was hoping we could go a little easy on the gifts this year. However gifts are a very big deal with Husband (he loves to give as much as he loves to receive,) and I began to get the feeling that I was getting some big surprise gift and that if I didn’t match up, I’d be disappointing him again.
I’d finished all my shopping the week before Christmas but realized over the weekend that I didn’t have anything “mind-blowing” for Husband. I’d gotten many things from his list, but not the high-end items. I thought back on the video iPod I’d gotten him a few years back and the beautiful watch I’d gotten him for our 10th anniversary (both of which were from his List,) both of which he lost soon after receiving. Even expensive things just seemed to sink into the insatiable abyss of wanting, instead of being valued as much as they were sought.
But as my anticipation of failure grew, I toyed with getting Guitar Hero. For the money I didn’t really think he’d play it a lot after the novelty wore off. So I considered the iPhone. It was expensive, but I’d heard that it was going to be available after Christmas for $99. So I thought I’d give him a $100 bill with my old cell phone.
But then on Sunday I had the opportunity to get him a gift certificate toward some spiritual classes he’d wanted to take. That wasn’t on the official List, but he’d mentioned that he was interested in taking some classes just weeks ago. I knew he’d end up with an iPhone anyway (especially if they were really going to be available for $99.) I decided to get the $200 gift certificate because, while the iPhone was more practical and could be written off as a business expense, the classes were a luxury so he’d be less likely to do that for himself.
But this morning as Son opened his considerable bounty yet still seemed to feel disappointed when it came to an end, and when Husband made joking mention of “not getting what I really wanted anyway, an iPhone” (he hadn’t opened my gift certificate yet) that feeling of dread surged and I felt the hollowness of what Christmas has become.
As I pondered, it dawned on me that because of Husband’s narcissism and affliction with addiction, almost anything would fall short of his expectations. Just like with all the prostitutes, he was always looking for that one mind-blowing ultimate experience, conversation, gift, whatever, that always seemed just out of his reach. Nothing was ever as good as he imagined once he got it, and he was always left unsatiated. Of course, nothing was ever enough to fill the undistinguished empty space he carried with him.
So all these years it had nothing to do with me falling short. It was a manifestation of where he was on his path.
Though I understood that logically and the realization helped me get some space and clarity, a heaviness continued to linger until I began to look more closely at my own feelings of sadness and disappointment. (The benefit of all the therapy and reading over the past 19 months is that I can often stay with the muck long enough to recognize the opportunity for me to grow rather than spinning into resentment, blame, distraction or skipping down the happy path of denial.)
I realized that I was feeling bad because I didn’t get what I wanted either.
What I wanted was for Husband to be thrilled with the gift certificate I’d gotten him (he wasn’t.) And for Son to revel in what he’d received rather than to be looking for more presents under the now barren tree. I was attached to each of them having specific experiences and because I didn’t get what I wanted I was hurt, sad, angry, disappointed.
Then, my Higher Power reminded me that I have no control over the experiences of another.
Authentic gratitude is a steep learning curve for narcissists, and only through this crisis we've faced has Husband found a foothold with which to being his ascent. (As I heard in church recently, it is darkness that makes it possible for us to see the light.)
All I can do is give what I give with love and joy, and Husband and Son must make their own experiences from there. And that will depend on where each of them are on their own paths, not on anything that I do or don’t do.
I still want to do Christmas differently next year, with less focus on lists and what we want (in other words, less focus on lack and desire for the months leading up to Christmas day.)
But now I have an opening to give with love and joy, and to revel in what I’ve received – life’s important basics: food, clothing, shelter; the love and support of family and friends; my health; my son; a career; material luxuries; spiritual growth; good therapists; the breath I'm taking now; all my needs met; and my growing presence to myself and each of us as unique and vital expressions of the Divine.
"... if the wave bends down and touches her true nature she will realize that she is water." - Thich Nhat Han, No Death, No Fear.
Once again, my life leaves me present to gratitude. That's what I got for Christmas.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
Learning not to be afraid of fear
A central concept in Buddhism is Dukkha, which translates generally as discomfort but encompasses the full range of discomfort from uneasiness and annoyance to the deepest pain and suffering.
My recent visit to a psychic medium represenced me to this concept and illuminated for me how far I've come in my journey.
I'd seen Laura soon after I found out about Husband's addiction when I was looking for anything that might provide some answers about how it came to be that my life was suddenly unrecognizable to me. The session had given me some good things to think about (letting him "off the hook" - in other words, not trying to make him pay for what he'd done is one of the things I recall her saying.)
This time my friend Sara had set up a group session with the two of us and 3 other women. Laura worked with each of us individually, serving as a vehicle for communications from the spirit world from people who've passed on, as well as from what I'd describe as the Universal Consciousness. When she came to me, she had little in the way of messages from departed relatives, but lots of thoughts from this Universal Consciousness presence.
She started out by singing "O Come All Ye Faithful" which, in retrospect, was very funny given how our conversation went. A joke from the spirit world, perhaps.
She said I was like a rose waiting to bloom with lots of opportunity available to me if I would stop focusing on others, stop living in fear, and focus on nurturing and developing myself. She suggested that I'd have to do this despite the fact that Husband might be threatened by success that comes my way. She told me I needed to start walking my walk, and to live up to the expectations I had for others. That was the good stuff.
She also said that my relationship was a cluster-fuck, that fixing absorbs 80% of my life and that I live in fear of when the next shoe is going to drop. When she asked my why I was still in this relationship, I said "because it's my path."
"For how long?" she asked.
She said I'm in a no-win situation because Husband is threatened when my life gets better. She said They were telling her it's a pattern I got on track with, and that I can't continue to hide my life being afraid of what he's going to do. There's more to my life than being a wife and mother. And, with respect to Husband's addictions, there have to be dealbreakers because people don't learn until boundaries are set.
She said I'm at a point where I must choose what to do with my life now, and the result with either be that I expand or crash and burn.
While I could listen in the context of my experience and find a lot that made sense to me, the context in which Laura was speaking and Sara was listening and later talking about it with me seemed to be based on the past, and it was very confronting.
My recent visit to a psychic medium represenced me to this concept and illuminated for me how far I've come in my journey.
I'd seen Laura soon after I found out about Husband's addiction when I was looking for anything that might provide some answers about how it came to be that my life was suddenly unrecognizable to me. The session had given me some good things to think about (letting him "off the hook" - in other words, not trying to make him pay for what he'd done is one of the things I recall her saying.)
This time my friend Sara had set up a group session with the two of us and 3 other women. Laura worked with each of us individually, serving as a vehicle for communications from the spirit world from people who've passed on, as well as from what I'd describe as the Universal Consciousness. When she came to me, she had little in the way of messages from departed relatives, but lots of thoughts from this Universal Consciousness presence.
She started out by singing "O Come All Ye Faithful" which, in retrospect, was very funny given how our conversation went. A joke from the spirit world, perhaps.
She said I was like a rose waiting to bloom with lots of opportunity available to me if I would stop focusing on others, stop living in fear, and focus on nurturing and developing myself. She suggested that I'd have to do this despite the fact that Husband might be threatened by success that comes my way. She told me I needed to start walking my walk, and to live up to the expectations I had for others. That was the good stuff.
She also said that my relationship was a cluster-fuck, that fixing absorbs 80% of my life and that I live in fear of when the next shoe is going to drop. When she asked my why I was still in this relationship, I said "because it's my path."
"For how long?" she asked.
She said I'm in a no-win situation because Husband is threatened when my life gets better. She said They were telling her it's a pattern I got on track with, and that I can't continue to hide my life being afraid of what he's going to do. There's more to my life than being a wife and mother. And, with respect to Husband's addictions, there have to be dealbreakers because people don't learn until boundaries are set.
She said I'm at a point where I must choose what to do with my life now, and the result with either be that I expand or crash and burn.
While I could listen in the context of my experience and find a lot that made sense to me, the context in which Laura was speaking and Sara was listening and later talking about it with me seemed to be based on the past, and it was very confronting.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
More opportunity to practice (AFGO)
On the CD that comes with the book Spiritual Liberation by Michael Bernard Beckwith, he says "In the mind of God there aren't any problems, there are just impetuses for us to evolve." He goes on to say that the real question to ask as we face challenges is "where must I grow, where must I evolve?" What is it within me that I must set free to empower myself in the face of this issue?
I've also been thinking about the difference between self-delusion and serenity. If I just choose to be happy, as I'm often invited to do, isn't it possible that I'm just looking on the sunny side and not dealing with the muck and darkness like I've always done?
After more thinking I've concluded that delusion is when I choose to be happy by ignoring or otherwise distracting myself from problems; and that serenity and empowerment come when I can choose to be happy in the presence of challenges and obstacles. This involves acceptance regarding what I can't control, and faith that I have everything I need within myself to meet all challenges that come my way. I can grow, I can evolve. It may not be easy, it may not be pleasant, but it's definitely something I can do. I can find the opportunity in any situation if I really want to.
So I have another opportunity, and my grand conclusion is easier contemplated than practiced.
Husband found out last night that he's being laid off in January. With my consulting work a trickle the past month, my mind immediately flings off in the direction of foreclosure.
This is part of my sickness. I fall into a downward spiral and hem and haw about disasters that haven't happened and things I can't control.
I have A LOT OF FEAR about financial insecurity, and about Husband being able to handle the stress of job loss, job hunting, stress in his current job, his continuing health issues, his upcoming operation, staying on his new medically supervised liquid diet, and sometimes not being able to get enough good sleep. I worry that the addict is going to pay us a visit.
So...I'm going to meditate more, exercise more, ask myself how I can evolve (I've already got a hunch this involves restructuring my relationship to abundance and surrendering to what I can and can't control,) talk to my higher power and turn things over...and we'll see. I'm getting better at seeing what is mine to deal with and what is Husband's to deal with, so that's useful progress.
Maybe over the past 18 months I've gained some facility in dealing with groundlessness and the impermanence of life.
I've also been thinking about the difference between self-delusion and serenity. If I just choose to be happy, as I'm often invited to do, isn't it possible that I'm just looking on the sunny side and not dealing with the muck and darkness like I've always done?
After more thinking I've concluded that delusion is when I choose to be happy by ignoring or otherwise distracting myself from problems; and that serenity and empowerment come when I can choose to be happy in the presence of challenges and obstacles. This involves acceptance regarding what I can't control, and faith that I have everything I need within myself to meet all challenges that come my way. I can grow, I can evolve. It may not be easy, it may not be pleasant, but it's definitely something I can do. I can find the opportunity in any situation if I really want to.
So I have another opportunity, and my grand conclusion is easier contemplated than practiced.
Husband found out last night that he's being laid off in January. With my consulting work a trickle the past month, my mind immediately flings off in the direction of foreclosure.
This is part of my sickness. I fall into a downward spiral and hem and haw about disasters that haven't happened and things I can't control.
I have A LOT OF FEAR about financial insecurity, and about Husband being able to handle the stress of job loss, job hunting, stress in his current job, his continuing health issues, his upcoming operation, staying on his new medically supervised liquid diet, and sometimes not being able to get enough good sleep. I worry that the addict is going to pay us a visit.
So...I'm going to meditate more, exercise more, ask myself how I can evolve (I've already got a hunch this involves restructuring my relationship to abundance and surrendering to what I can and can't control,) talk to my higher power and turn things over...and we'll see. I'm getting better at seeing what is mine to deal with and what is Husband's to deal with, so that's useful progress.
Maybe over the past 18 months I've gained some facility in dealing with groundlessness and the impermanence of life.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
The Question
I was thinking about my 20 history with Husband, and how I would ever be able to start a new relationship with someone other than him if I had to.
Without 20 years of history, how would I know this person, and how would they know me? How would I be able to feel safe with somebody completely unknown?
What popped into my head was this:
The question would not be "Do you know and love me enough to be in a relationship with me?"
The question would be "Do you know and love YOURSELF enough to be in a relationship with me?"
And this, or some version of it, is the same question I'd need to ask myself and the question that I want to ask myself even now in my relationship with Husband: Knowing and loving myself, is this where I want to be? Knowing and loving myself, does this feel good and right in this very moment?
I have fleeting fears about safety. How can I be sure I'm safe? With Husband or with any partner?
The answer that feels most right in my gut is that the safety I seek will come from knowing and loving myself, and not from anybody else.
Easier said than done. I've learned much I didn't know about myself over the past year and a half. I'm learning to accept, embrace and love my humanity, my flaws and failings as well as my strengths and gifts. But knowing myself and loving myself are probably conscious acts best done one day at a time anyway...part of the journey, not the destination.
Without 20 years of history, how would I know this person, and how would they know me? How would I be able to feel safe with somebody completely unknown?
What popped into my head was this:
The question would not be "Do you know and love me enough to be in a relationship with me?"
The question would be "Do you know and love YOURSELF enough to be in a relationship with me?"
And this, or some version of it, is the same question I'd need to ask myself and the question that I want to ask myself even now in my relationship with Husband: Knowing and loving myself, is this where I want to be? Knowing and loving myself, does this feel good and right in this very moment?
I have fleeting fears about safety. How can I be sure I'm safe? With Husband or with any partner?
The answer that feels most right in my gut is that the safety I seek will come from knowing and loving myself, and not from anybody else.
Easier said than done. I've learned much I didn't know about myself over the past year and a half. I'm learning to accept, embrace and love my humanity, my flaws and failings as well as my strengths and gifts. But knowing myself and loving myself are probably conscious acts best done one day at a time anyway...part of the journey, not the destination.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
I've started going to church
It's a surprising development, considering my skepticism. But more than anything else, this has been a spiritual journey for me. Who woulda thought? Certainly not me.
One of the things I've realized through all the reading I've been doing (mostly Buddhism) and through participating in the S-Anon 12 step program is that spirituality has been missing from my life. I've always had to have every answer, to be completely self sufficient. My ability to figure out things, to anticipate and solve problems has been one of my most successful tools for survival. Even now, there is a part of me that has fingers on the buttons that will hermetically seal me off in a Bat-Mobile of self sufficiency.
But now I also see another possibility.
A few days ago I was exploring my resistance to forgiving Husband. I realized that the obstacle was my fear of being hurt again, and that I was resisting my powerlessness in this area.
Refusing to forgive, holding on to just a tiny bit of the past, feels like power...like a safeguard against being vulnerable. Holding onto the distrust is my way of reminding myself not to let betrayal happen again. (There's that resistance to powerlessness!)
I realized that what there is to surrender, what I'm being given the opportunity to wake up to, is that whether or not I'm hurt or betrayed again is beyond my control, and in fact quite likely to happen again. Not something I really want to surrender to, but there it is.
I thought about what would happen if I were betrayed so deeply again, if I ever again felt such deep and raw pain. What would happen if the world as I know it proves profoundly false, lets me down, doesn't meet my expectations / fantasies once again?
The answer that came was that I'd have to face that unbearable pain and surreal disorientation. And that I'd have only myself and the community I've created to support me to help me get through it.
That answer surprised me.
I've never felt community before, let alone thought about getting support from any kind of community. Mostly I've seen myself as very isolated and alone, with the few bright exceptions of 3 or 4 very close friends. I'm the one who helps others, not the recipient of help.
What I've come to realize is that community is there if I open up to it. I've learned that I don't have to have the answers. I don't have to always be the one holding it all together, handling everything when others can't. I can be human, I can be lost, I can be wrong and fallible without becoming unforgivable, I can have messy, even irrational feelings. And when those things happen, there can be a community of people there to hold me, nurture me, hear me, comfort me, and lift me up.
I don't have to do it alone.
As an only child of very young parents, I think I learned a lot about self-sufficiency. And growing up in a family where "bad" feelings were immediately squelched out with love or the withholding of love, where anger was frosty and tight lipped and a lot of communication was indirect, I learned how to deal with things internally instead of reaching out. But now that I'm an adult can I see other options. And acknowledging a power other than myself, a god of my understanding, even if I don't have a clear definition for what that is, seems to turn out better for me than trying to hold it all together alone.
Surrendering to the unknown, embracing the impermanence of life, facing that moment by moment without taking refuge in my intellect, cynicism and skepticism...that is a spiritual experience.
One of the things I've realized through all the reading I've been doing (mostly Buddhism) and through participating in the S-Anon 12 step program is that spirituality has been missing from my life. I've always had to have every answer, to be completely self sufficient. My ability to figure out things, to anticipate and solve problems has been one of my most successful tools for survival. Even now, there is a part of me that has fingers on the buttons that will hermetically seal me off in a Bat-Mobile of self sufficiency.
But now I also see another possibility.
A few days ago I was exploring my resistance to forgiving Husband. I realized that the obstacle was my fear of being hurt again, and that I was resisting my powerlessness in this area.
Refusing to forgive, holding on to just a tiny bit of the past, feels like power...like a safeguard against being vulnerable. Holding onto the distrust is my way of reminding myself not to let betrayal happen again. (There's that resistance to powerlessness!)
I realized that what there is to surrender, what I'm being given the opportunity to wake up to, is that whether or not I'm hurt or betrayed again is beyond my control, and in fact quite likely to happen again. Not something I really want to surrender to, but there it is.
I thought about what would happen if I were betrayed so deeply again, if I ever again felt such deep and raw pain. What would happen if the world as I know it proves profoundly false, lets me down, doesn't meet my expectations / fantasies once again?
The answer that came was that I'd have to face that unbearable pain and surreal disorientation. And that I'd have only myself and the community I've created to support me to help me get through it.
That answer surprised me.
I've never felt community before, let alone thought about getting support from any kind of community. Mostly I've seen myself as very isolated and alone, with the few bright exceptions of 3 or 4 very close friends. I'm the one who helps others, not the recipient of help.
What I've come to realize is that community is there if I open up to it. I've learned that I don't have to have the answers. I don't have to always be the one holding it all together, handling everything when others can't. I can be human, I can be lost, I can be wrong and fallible without becoming unforgivable, I can have messy, even irrational feelings. And when those things happen, there can be a community of people there to hold me, nurture me, hear me, comfort me, and lift me up.
I don't have to do it alone.
As an only child of very young parents, I think I learned a lot about self-sufficiency. And growing up in a family where "bad" feelings were immediately squelched out with love or the withholding of love, where anger was frosty and tight lipped and a lot of communication was indirect, I learned how to deal with things internally instead of reaching out. But now that I'm an adult can I see other options. And acknowledging a power other than myself, a god of my understanding, even if I don't have a clear definition for what that is, seems to turn out better for me than trying to hold it all together alone.
Surrendering to the unknown, embracing the impermanence of life, facing that moment by moment without taking refuge in my intellect, cynicism and skepticism...that is a spiritual experience.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Eleven years today
Husband and I got married on November 1, 1997.
We don't have any special celebration planned this year. Last year we celebrated with a honeymoon on Maui, about 4 months after the truth had come out. It was an intense, emotional time.
This year I feel different. Less emotional, more guarded, yet willing to leave the past in the past, live in the present moment and give what I have today a chance.
I'm tired of my bouts of fear and anxiety, yet I still can't seem to shake them entirely. Husband is struggling with his food addiction a little right now, and I get really nervous about the possibility of things getting out of control. I know he can't be perfect, but I've been through the food struggles before with him and now I have an idea of what he's really struggling with, and where that can lead. I don't think he'll go so far as to go back to porn, massage parlors and prostitutes, but I still fear it. This indicates to me that I have more spiritual work in front of me, more surrender to impermanence and unknowability. And more work around control issues and my ability to feel safe in an uncontrollable world.
I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, afraid to jump back into living 100 percent. It feels easier just to be afraid. But I know that if I jump I might find out I can fly. The fear is still there, though. But it's not insurmountable.
And maybe I'll find that I need to choose again whether or not to jump every single day from here on out.
And I can only begin to imagine where that kind of life will take me, jumping and jumping and jumping again.
We don't have any special celebration planned this year. Last year we celebrated with a honeymoon on Maui, about 4 months after the truth had come out. It was an intense, emotional time.
This year I feel different. Less emotional, more guarded, yet willing to leave the past in the past, live in the present moment and give what I have today a chance.
I'm tired of my bouts of fear and anxiety, yet I still can't seem to shake them entirely. Husband is struggling with his food addiction a little right now, and I get really nervous about the possibility of things getting out of control. I know he can't be perfect, but I've been through the food struggles before with him and now I have an idea of what he's really struggling with, and where that can lead. I don't think he'll go so far as to go back to porn, massage parlors and prostitutes, but I still fear it. This indicates to me that I have more spiritual work in front of me, more surrender to impermanence and unknowability. And more work around control issues and my ability to feel safe in an uncontrollable world.
I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, afraid to jump back into living 100 percent. It feels easier just to be afraid. But I know that if I jump I might find out I can fly. The fear is still there, though. But it's not insurmountable.
And maybe I'll find that I need to choose again whether or not to jump every single day from here on out.
And I can only begin to imagine where that kind of life will take me, jumping and jumping and jumping again.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Stuck
The past couple of weeks have been exhausting and confusing. It's no one big catastrophe. More visits to the ER with more of Husband's medical issues; Husband's fear of pain which results in him screaming like he's dying even when he's not; wondering what I'll do if Husband does die (unlikely) because he let his hard-to-get life insurance lapse when he was in the throes of his addiction; lots of late nights with client work for my job; taking on most of the household stuff since Husband is bed-ridden; taking husband to doctor appointments; worry about Husband's job situation (he feels like if they lay anyone off he'll be the first to go;) worry about my own flow of income - consulting has been good through last week, but feels like it might be light for the rest of the year; trying to figure out how we'll keep our house if one or both of us lose our jobs; my relationship with my mother, which is very hard for me to manage when I'm under stress from all this other stuff; the anger and resentment that comes welling up when I feel like Husband's narcissist is playing up his suffering to make sure that he gets the sympathy he deserves (this may not be true, but I get suspicious about this and then angry.)
It's no one big thing. Just all these different concerns, feelings and fears piling on top of each other.
I've continued to feel that detachment I felt when I first saw him lying on the bathroom floor in a sweaty, bloody, pallid heap a few weeks ago (the result of an undetected kidney infection doctors think, which resulted in temporary kidney failure.) I'm sure it's my defense against the fear I feel about the possibility of him dying. I'm already struggling so much with trying to get to a place where I can honestly reinvest. With the fright of middle-of-the-night 911 calls and all the thoughts those bring, I feel numb and tired. It's confusing to be trying to help nurse him back to health when I have unresolved feelings about the things he's done and his recent slip that I've not really been able to heal from because of dealing with his medical crises.
I also feel lonely. I've talked to Nora and Marcie, but they are cities away and have their own families and their own concerns, and I don't want to burden them with mine when there's little they can do except worry about me. I know it's hard for them to hear me sad. (I hear myself trying to manage their experiences - one of my ingrained codie behaviors.)
I contemplated telling another close friend who was visiting from out of town, just so I could have someone to talk to about my feelings, but it didn't work out logistically.
As usual, I can't talk to my mother about any of it because we're far too enmeshed for her to offer me anything that would be remotely helpful. (Just the other day for example, she offered that she felt so sorry for my son because "people" were yelling at him more these days about whining, when previously he'd been told by Husband and me that it was fine to whine. (Actually we'd told him it was fine to express his feelings.) Not with her of course, she reminded me, because she'd made it clear from the beginning that there was to be no whining and crying when he was with her (i.e. no unpleasant FEELINGS to deal with.) But now she was feeling sad for him because people were having less patience with him and it was hurting his feelings.
Thanks, Mom. And she couldn't understand why I felt criticized. She said it wasn't a judgment, just an observation. She alway claims with righteous certainty that she's never in her life judged anybody. Whatever... (I get my absolutism from my mother's side of the family.)
I didn't want to call my sponsor because I had so much going on I felt like it would just be a dump of emotion and negative thoughts and complaints and fears. I know this is exactly when I should call. But I gave myself the excuse that I was too tired.
I got on the treadmill a couple times which helped. Got into the lovely rum that was brought to us from the Caribbean a couple times. Ate a few too many coconut fruit bars a couple of times. Prayed. Read. Tried to get some sleep.
Finally, at Husband's urging (and recognizing the codie tendencies that were keeping me from making this call,) I called my sponsor today. It didn't turn out to be an emotional dump session, but a really good conversation. It was just a relief to talk about things with someone who I didn't need to hide anything from. She reminded me to write.
I'm still tired. Still feeling detached. But I also feel lighter for having reached out and made a connection with someone.
I went and saw The Duchess tonight (really wanted to see "W" but it started too early and too late), and found it to be a story of waking up to a life that is not what you expected it would be and being trapped in that life. In the end it was just painful choices between different heartbreaking paths. It left me sad.
I don't feel trapped, but I feel as if I've woken up in somebody else's life and to choose to leave this life for my actual life would be more heartbreaking than to just stay. I have reason to believe that over time Husband and I can continue to heal and make progress. So for now, since I have a child who loves his father, and a husband who is a wonderful father despite his problems, the benefits of giving it time outweigh the difficulties of living with discomfort, confusion and uncertainty.
I need to get myself unstuck. Unstuck from this defensive position. I need to reopen to what is before me and stop resisting. But the fear is powerful. I am afraid.
I'm afraid that Husband can never love me in the way I think I want to be loved. I don't think his love will ever be the safe-haven it used to be, my harbor from the storms of life. He is the storm now. I am alone in my boat, in the storm, wondering where I will find this harbor.
Truthfully, I want to be taken care of.
But I know it's time to be done with that. It's time to find out how to take care of myself. Time to develop a relationship with my higher power from which I will draw strength to stop resisting impermanence; to stop resisting that which is beyond my control, and that which is unknowable; to accept the uncertainty that comes with grey in place of the illusory safety found in black and white; to stop searching for ground and accept groundlessness as a natural condition that I don't have to fix; to be open and present instead of closed off and numb in the face of fear.
Much like happiness, I'm finding that peace is not a destination, but a journey. Moment by moment, one day at a time.
It's no one big thing. Just all these different concerns, feelings and fears piling on top of each other.
I've continued to feel that detachment I felt when I first saw him lying on the bathroom floor in a sweaty, bloody, pallid heap a few weeks ago (the result of an undetected kidney infection doctors think, which resulted in temporary kidney failure.) I'm sure it's my defense against the fear I feel about the possibility of him dying. I'm already struggling so much with trying to get to a place where I can honestly reinvest. With the fright of middle-of-the-night 911 calls and all the thoughts those bring, I feel numb and tired. It's confusing to be trying to help nurse him back to health when I have unresolved feelings about the things he's done and his recent slip that I've not really been able to heal from because of dealing with his medical crises.
I also feel lonely. I've talked to Nora and Marcie, but they are cities away and have their own families and their own concerns, and I don't want to burden them with mine when there's little they can do except worry about me. I know it's hard for them to hear me sad. (I hear myself trying to manage their experiences - one of my ingrained codie behaviors.)
I contemplated telling another close friend who was visiting from out of town, just so I could have someone to talk to about my feelings, but it didn't work out logistically.
As usual, I can't talk to my mother about any of it because we're far too enmeshed for her to offer me anything that would be remotely helpful. (Just the other day for example, she offered that she felt so sorry for my son because "people" were yelling at him more these days about whining, when previously he'd been told by Husband and me that it was fine to whine. (Actually we'd told him it was fine to express his feelings.) Not with her of course, she reminded me, because she'd made it clear from the beginning that there was to be no whining and crying when he was with her (i.e. no unpleasant FEELINGS to deal with.) But now she was feeling sad for him because people were having less patience with him and it was hurting his feelings.
Thanks, Mom. And she couldn't understand why I felt criticized. She said it wasn't a judgment, just an observation. She alway claims with righteous certainty that she's never in her life judged anybody. Whatever... (I get my absolutism from my mother's side of the family.)
I didn't want to call my sponsor because I had so much going on I felt like it would just be a dump of emotion and negative thoughts and complaints and fears. I know this is exactly when I should call. But I gave myself the excuse that I was too tired.
I got on the treadmill a couple times which helped. Got into the lovely rum that was brought to us from the Caribbean a couple times. Ate a few too many coconut fruit bars a couple of times. Prayed. Read. Tried to get some sleep.
Finally, at Husband's urging (and recognizing the codie tendencies that were keeping me from making this call,) I called my sponsor today. It didn't turn out to be an emotional dump session, but a really good conversation. It was just a relief to talk about things with someone who I didn't need to hide anything from. She reminded me to write.
I'm still tired. Still feeling detached. But I also feel lighter for having reached out and made a connection with someone.
I went and saw The Duchess tonight (really wanted to see "W" but it started too early and too late), and found it to be a story of waking up to a life that is not what you expected it would be and being trapped in that life. In the end it was just painful choices between different heartbreaking paths. It left me sad.
I don't feel trapped, but I feel as if I've woken up in somebody else's life and to choose to leave this life for my actual life would be more heartbreaking than to just stay. I have reason to believe that over time Husband and I can continue to heal and make progress. So for now, since I have a child who loves his father, and a husband who is a wonderful father despite his problems, the benefits of giving it time outweigh the difficulties of living with discomfort, confusion and uncertainty.
I need to get myself unstuck. Unstuck from this defensive position. I need to reopen to what is before me and stop resisting. But the fear is powerful. I am afraid.
I'm afraid that Husband can never love me in the way I think I want to be loved. I don't think his love will ever be the safe-haven it used to be, my harbor from the storms of life. He is the storm now. I am alone in my boat, in the storm, wondering where I will find this harbor.
Truthfully, I want to be taken care of.
But I know it's time to be done with that. It's time to find out how to take care of myself. Time to develop a relationship with my higher power from which I will draw strength to stop resisting impermanence; to stop resisting that which is beyond my control, and that which is unknowable; to accept the uncertainty that comes with grey in place of the illusory safety found in black and white; to stop searching for ground and accept groundlessness as a natural condition that I don't have to fix; to be open and present instead of closed off and numb in the face of fear.
Much like happiness, I'm finding that peace is not a destination, but a journey. Moment by moment, one day at a time.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Force fields up, phasers set to vaporize
I'm feeling more stable now that my walls are firmly in place.
I'm still connecting with my feelings, but I have decided to take off the wife and lover hats, as Sophie wrote to me explaining how she handles trust in her marriage to an addict.
I had to deliver something to a client today, and ended up parking right in front of the Oriental Massage place where Husband got his first taste of prostitution. Massage with happy ending.
We lived right around the corner from that place at the time he started visiting it. I always wondered when I passed it what kind of a place it was. I'd heard about "oriental massage" from a friend whose husband had experienced the happy ending at a posh hotel in Hong Kong.
I decided that it was time to face this head on. I'd been avoiding driving by the place, and getting anxious every time I knew I'd be near it. So I got out of the car, walked up and opened the door.
It opened right into a dingy, white space that was 3x8 with a counter running the length of it. A sign read "No one under 21 allowed." I glanced around the small space, wondering what Husband was thinking when he opened that same door for the first time. He knew why he was there...I'm sure of that now.
A bell had rung as I entered and Asian woman came out after a moment in response. She muttered something indecipherable.
"This is where my husband first got introduced to prostitution, so I just wanted to see it," I said. I glanced around, looked at her as she muttered something else, and then I shut the door.
My heart was pounding. I felt like I'd looked into the mouth of a beast. But I also felt strength, having faced something that had become such a symbol in my mind.
I continued to the next building to visit my client, heart still pounding as I rode the elevator up and waited in the lobby. Pounding as I talked to the cheerful woman who greeted me. But eventually my chest calmed, and my mind moved into the present moment.
When I returned to my car, a final glance at that door confirmed that I'd vanquished something. Although I could feel my heart pounding again. I took a deep breath, switched on NPR, and pulled into traffic repeating a favorite mantra under my breath. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay..." In the present it's okay.
Our couples therapy session Tuesday night was good. I expressed a lot of the anger and pain I'd been keeping inside. Husband talked about what the experience of slipping was like for him, from the cigarette and shot to the stupid hair salon to the sneaking money. Our therapist suggested that he do whatever he can to demonstrate that he's trustworthy so I can begin to see over time again that he's actively in recovery and not lying about it.
I told her that I really had no idea what he was doing - going to meetings or lying about it, going to his therapist or lying about it. I had no idea any more about the validity of anything coming out of his mouth. She said that if he was lying on such a massive scale, if he was pulling away from the recovery community like that, he'd demonstrate in other areas of life behavior that would be clearly addict or narcissist behavior, and he'd be oblivious to it. In other words, I'd get some trustworthy flags. That made sense to me. That helped. I may not be able to tell when he's lying to my face, but I know I'd be able to pick up on other addict / narcissist behaviors.
So now, I'm giving it time. Time, time, time. Weeks? Months? Years? I don't know. My priority is me and my son. Right now Husband is my partner in raising our son, managing our finances and the logistics of life. I have the parent hat on. I don't know when the other hats will feel right. The friend, the wife, the lover...
I feel resentment about the fact that I feel alone in the world, without an intimate relationship to trust, without a partner I can feel safe to trust and love freely. I'm pissed about that. But I breathe. I read. I do step work. I work on my relationship with higher power. I try to remember not to do it alone, to reach out to others.
Something that's odd for me is that while I don't want to reach out to Husband, I don't want him to stop reaching out to me. I need to be able to remain detatched, but I also need to feel Husband's love for me. I feel like an animal that's been hit, craving touch but freezing in my tracks so I can detect whether it's going to be a blow or a caress and respond to save my life if I have to. So dramatic, huh?
I don't feel like a victim. But I am disappointed. Disappointed and sad. And angry. But I'm also stronger, more grounded, more in touch with myself, and grateful for the progress I've made with my own issues.
I'm still connecting with my feelings, but I have decided to take off the wife and lover hats, as Sophie wrote to me explaining how she handles trust in her marriage to an addict.
I had to deliver something to a client today, and ended up parking right in front of the Oriental Massage place where Husband got his first taste of prostitution. Massage with happy ending.
We lived right around the corner from that place at the time he started visiting it. I always wondered when I passed it what kind of a place it was. I'd heard about "oriental massage" from a friend whose husband had experienced the happy ending at a posh hotel in Hong Kong.
I decided that it was time to face this head on. I'd been avoiding driving by the place, and getting anxious every time I knew I'd be near it. So I got out of the car, walked up and opened the door.
It opened right into a dingy, white space that was 3x8 with a counter running the length of it. A sign read "No one under 21 allowed." I glanced around the small space, wondering what Husband was thinking when he opened that same door for the first time. He knew why he was there...I'm sure of that now.
A bell had rung as I entered and Asian woman came out after a moment in response. She muttered something indecipherable.
"This is where my husband first got introduced to prostitution, so I just wanted to see it," I said. I glanced around, looked at her as she muttered something else, and then I shut the door.
My heart was pounding. I felt like I'd looked into the mouth of a beast. But I also felt strength, having faced something that had become such a symbol in my mind.
I continued to the next building to visit my client, heart still pounding as I rode the elevator up and waited in the lobby. Pounding as I talked to the cheerful woman who greeted me. But eventually my chest calmed, and my mind moved into the present moment.
When I returned to my car, a final glance at that door confirmed that I'd vanquished something. Although I could feel my heart pounding again. I took a deep breath, switched on NPR, and pulled into traffic repeating a favorite mantra under my breath. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay..." In the present it's okay.
Our couples therapy session Tuesday night was good. I expressed a lot of the anger and pain I'd been keeping inside. Husband talked about what the experience of slipping was like for him, from the cigarette and shot to the stupid hair salon to the sneaking money. Our therapist suggested that he do whatever he can to demonstrate that he's trustworthy so I can begin to see over time again that he's actively in recovery and not lying about it.
I told her that I really had no idea what he was doing - going to meetings or lying about it, going to his therapist or lying about it. I had no idea any more about the validity of anything coming out of his mouth. She said that if he was lying on such a massive scale, if he was pulling away from the recovery community like that, he'd demonstrate in other areas of life behavior that would be clearly addict or narcissist behavior, and he'd be oblivious to it. In other words, I'd get some trustworthy flags. That made sense to me. That helped. I may not be able to tell when he's lying to my face, but I know I'd be able to pick up on other addict / narcissist behaviors.
So now, I'm giving it time. Time, time, time. Weeks? Months? Years? I don't know. My priority is me and my son. Right now Husband is my partner in raising our son, managing our finances and the logistics of life. I have the parent hat on. I don't know when the other hats will feel right. The friend, the wife, the lover...
I feel resentment about the fact that I feel alone in the world, without an intimate relationship to trust, without a partner I can feel safe to trust and love freely. I'm pissed about that. But I breathe. I read. I do step work. I work on my relationship with higher power. I try to remember not to do it alone, to reach out to others.
Something that's odd for me is that while I don't want to reach out to Husband, I don't want him to stop reaching out to me. I need to be able to remain detatched, but I also need to feel Husband's love for me. I feel like an animal that's been hit, craving touch but freezing in my tracks so I can detect whether it's going to be a blow or a caress and respond to save my life if I have to. So dramatic, huh?
I don't feel like a victim. But I am disappointed. Disappointed and sad. And angry. But I'm also stronger, more grounded, more in touch with myself, and grateful for the progress I've made with my own issues.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Feeling a lot of fear
Today the overwhelming thing I'm feeling is fear.
I'm afraid to trust Husband. When I can't reach him on the phone, where is he?
I'm afraid that my pulling back is making him so sacred that he's going to slip back into old behaviors and resentment.
I'm afraid that he'll start to pull away from me, and from trying to work things out because of his fear
I'm afraid of losing him
I'm afraid of wanting him
I don't know what I want
I'm afraid of him, afraid to trust anything he says
I'm afraid because I don't know how this will all turn out
He says he wants to keep fighting for our marriage, that he wants to do whatever he can to work things out. I want to believe him, but I just don't know if that's crazy or not anymore.
He had a slip. He lied. He started sneaking money to do...who knows what. He said it wasn't for strip clubs or prostitutes, but I can never know for sure. He didn't tell me about a cigarette he had, about a drink he had (he's not abstaining as part of a program, but he had said he wouldn't drink for a year.) In the context of everything else he's done, these things are minor. But lies, omissions and hiding are the problem.
I feel like I don't know what to trust. My defenses are way up, and I'm pulling away to protect myself. But is that motivated by intuition or fear? I started to feel that trust was possible, and then this happened. So is it just hopeless? If I pull away out of fear, will I lose a real chance at healing and recovery in our marriage?
I guess if Husband is really back on the path of recovery, he will be on that path no matter where I am. Maybe that's where I can look. What does he do when he gets no reassurance from me? Does he continue to use his new tools, or does he give up and fall into the abyss of resentment and self-pity, and swiftly return to old ways of being? How sincere is his recovery? Is this how I can get an idea of that?
Everything looks frightening right now. I want some solid ground.
I know I can continue on my own path of recovery. But I wish I could know what is possible for our relationship. Either way, with him or without him, I can move forward in a healthy way. I'm confident of that. But this not-knowing...that is where all the fear is. Fear of the unknown. Fear of being hurt again, betrayed again.
I think the person I loved and married is there somewhere, and I don't want to give up on that. But neither do I want to sacrifice my self and self-respect if the addict is going to dominate our relationship. I don't know who I'm talking to right now...Husband the-man-I-knew or Husband the Addict. They are different, but they look the same to me.
I'm afraid to trust Husband. When I can't reach him on the phone, where is he?
I'm afraid that my pulling back is making him so sacred that he's going to slip back into old behaviors and resentment.
I'm afraid that he'll start to pull away from me, and from trying to work things out because of his fear
I'm afraid of losing him
I'm afraid of wanting him
I don't know what I want
I'm afraid of him, afraid to trust anything he says
I'm afraid because I don't know how this will all turn out
He says he wants to keep fighting for our marriage, that he wants to do whatever he can to work things out. I want to believe him, but I just don't know if that's crazy or not anymore.
He had a slip. He lied. He started sneaking money to do...who knows what. He said it wasn't for strip clubs or prostitutes, but I can never know for sure. He didn't tell me about a cigarette he had, about a drink he had (he's not abstaining as part of a program, but he had said he wouldn't drink for a year.) In the context of everything else he's done, these things are minor. But lies, omissions and hiding are the problem.
I feel like I don't know what to trust. My defenses are way up, and I'm pulling away to protect myself. But is that motivated by intuition or fear? I started to feel that trust was possible, and then this happened. So is it just hopeless? If I pull away out of fear, will I lose a real chance at healing and recovery in our marriage?
I guess if Husband is really back on the path of recovery, he will be on that path no matter where I am. Maybe that's where I can look. What does he do when he gets no reassurance from me? Does he continue to use his new tools, or does he give up and fall into the abyss of resentment and self-pity, and swiftly return to old ways of being? How sincere is his recovery? Is this how I can get an idea of that?
Everything looks frightening right now. I want some solid ground.
I know I can continue on my own path of recovery. But I wish I could know what is possible for our relationship. Either way, with him or without him, I can move forward in a healthy way. I'm confident of that. But this not-knowing...that is where all the fear is. Fear of the unknown. Fear of being hurt again, betrayed again.
I think the person I loved and married is there somewhere, and I don't want to give up on that. But neither do I want to sacrifice my self and self-respect if the addict is going to dominate our relationship. I don't know who I'm talking to right now...Husband the-man-I-knew or Husband the Addict. They are different, but they look the same to me.
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