Building Resonant Relationships

I’m enrolled in an online class in leadership that has excited me and  fueled my thoughts on how these principles might be applied in family dynamics. 

My family is struggling to survive.  The death rattle of dying souls is evidenced in my son’s rebellion, my daughter’s complaints of feeling alone, and my own sleeplessness.  I hold on, waiting for the next gasp when we desperately breathe in the joy of game night or a camping trip or an evening at church.  It’s relief and reprieve give us all the hope that it will be okay.  We will make it. Our little family will heal and grow.

The last video presented in the class was on the importance of hope and vision to drive development in individuals, couples, and teams.  Hope and a shared vision are necessary to sustain a resonant relationship.  The professor explained there are certain markers that lead to or evidence disintegration in the team and used two of the greatest bands of the last century as a case study. These attributes of team failure are: Assertion of one’s individual ideal self. Suppression of certain individual’s contributions. Development of interests not shared by others on the team. Resistance by one individual or even the entire team. Failure to work on things together. Drug use in any of the individuals. And, exclusion of wives and families. Contrasting that are three simple characteristics of team stability and sustainability: Members just want to play or work together. Families are involved. And, they have a shared love for their purpose or shared activity.

Tonight, after an all day argument, my husband told me flatly that he doesn’t love me; he’s not in love with me; he doesn’t want to do things or go places with me; he doesn’t desire to be intimate with me; he just doesn’t care; and he wants out. This is something I’ve frequently sensed throughout the marriage and these are sentiments he’s verbalized in the past, but tonight it utterly broke me in a whole new way. I’m trying to process it, but I’m wrecked. I had held onto game night and camping and my son’s recent wedding and more frequent acts of affection as signs of hope. I dared to believe in recovery. I clung to those fun moments as breaths of life. And, tonight I was told those moments didn’t mean what I thought they did. They meant nothing to my husband. They were obligatory acts he resented.

I am replaying his hurtful words in my head. I do not trust him because of past wrongs. I feel like I’ve forgiven him, but I struggle with forgetting. However, I own my own sinful nature. I can’t deny the litany of accusations he hurls at me. Some are lies, but some carry the sting of truth. The burden of self blame is heavy when one honestly assesses their own role in their experienced failures, and I’ve taken the time to consider mine. He says he would have naturally cared for me if I had been different. Who I am as a human being is too flawed to be deserving of love, compassion, and understanding. I needed to work for and earn his love and commitment, but I didn’t work hard enough.

Naturally I want to be a better wife, a better mother, a better grandmother, a better friend, a better worker. I want to accept the criticism necessary for growth. I absolutely don’t want to be so hard headed that I think I’m always right. But, I am a damaged, sinful human being who shares the same needs as my husband and every other human on the planet. The models apply to me, too. In order to thrive and feel secure and bring my best self to the table, I need to feel like I belong to something bigger than myself, where it’s safe to make mistakes because my team member is committed to me and my growth just as I’m committed to them and theirs. Even in times where we don’t agree or even like each other, we’re still committed to the team and its shared vision. There’s safety and comfort in that. That sense of belonging to something bigger is the fertile ground for resonant relationships and thriving teams. It’s the catalyst for individual and marital growth. Relationships die without it.

Grateful for Something, Anything

Last night was rough. My husband and I fought almost all night. Cruel, cruel things were said. Things that should never be uttered by the person who commits to love you for life.

It all started when I asked the extent of his relationship with a coworker.

He’d spent Valentine’s Day 2020 with her while I was sick at home in bed. That day he threw away my wedding gift to him and obtained divorce papers. I had no idea all of that was happening. All I did know was that he was out until 9 o’clock at night, and I had no idea where he was. He eventually told me he was with two male friends.

However, nearly a year later I found out he was actually with a female coworker and two of her male friends. She posted on Facebook that day, “Feeling loved,” and her post told how she’d made the best dessert ever for her three single male friends. I found the email she sent him three days later asking him if it sounded like I have Borderline Personality Disorder. (She and I have never met!) I envisioned him crying on her warm shoulder as she consoled the poor married/single man in the most inappropriate, manipulative relationship the two of them could justify. But, I don’t know. I just don’t know where he’s been or who he’s been with for a huge percentage of our marriage.

It drives me crazy to think of my man pursuing other women while he regularly rejects me. This is NOT what God intended marriage to be; I’m certain of that. This is only one of several times our marriage vows have been betrayed or dismissed. The wounds are deep and excruciating. I need him to tenderly care for those cuts he inflicted. I need him to divulge all of the ugly truth of all outside conversations and time wasted on others. I need him to profess undying love and devotion for me and assure me he wants no one but me. I don’t receive that, but we have cerebrally re-committed and promised forgiveness, so onward and upward I must march. Emotionally abandoned and staggering, but march forward I must. Right? Afterall, God calls us to forgiveness and reconciliation.

Still, I struggle. I wait, longing to hear the words that never come.

She reached out to my husband this weekend, and I just needed to know. I asked what was the extent of their relationship. I felt a sick compulsion to know how long they’d flirted and confided in each other. How long had he demonized me to her? Had they touched? Kissed?

He was evasive and got very angry when I persisted. And, the world blew up. The moment that could have been used for healing and intimacy instead created even greater damage. And, we barely slept.

Work demands a professional presentation though, and I breathed deeply before walking into the office, begging God to give me peace and strength. It’s my mantra. Peace and strength, Lord, peace and strength.

And, as always, He delivered.

My coworker and I happily connected before the morning meeting. Even my difficult resident seemed cheerful and eager to engage. The residence was clean, and the children had placed flowers on the table. It wasn’t long, and my boss stopped by with our paychecks. I received several warm and very friendly emails from community partners. I met with my pastor’s sweet wife for a time of encouragement and prayer. My children had a good day at school with their friends and shared several successes that had built their confidence. The sun was out, and a calm breeze cooled the day. I came home and took advantage of the weather by weeding a large part of the driveway while the kids did homework. I felt accomplished, content.

My husband was gone again. One more occasion I have no idea where he was or who he was with. And, I’ll probably never know.

But, still, I have peace. I’m grateful for my coworkers and my job. I’m grateful for my smiling children. I’m grateful for my church and my friends. I’m grateful for my little home and its weeds. I’m grateful for the strength and stamina to get through this day. I’m grateful for a God who never abandons me, never tells me I’m not good enough for Him, always seeks me out, and always brings the healing that I need. Thank you, Lord, for peace and strength.

In The Morning Comes Joy

I have sensed for a very long time, about six weeks into my marriage, that my husband doesn’t love me.  There have been many things said and done that have been my evidence to prove myself right.  And, last night he finally flatly stated that he doesn’t love me and isn’t attracted to me. 

It cut deeply.

However, somewhere in the abyss of that pain I finally found peace.  God gently whispered to me that I am loved.  I was wanted so badly that He died for me.  He’ll never forsake me.  Never leave me.  Never ridicule or mock me.  Never compare me to anyone else.  And, He’s waiting for me, preparing a beautiful home for me. He’s eager for me to join Him. 

Such clarity rushed in and overwhelmed my exhausted mind and body!  For the first time in this marriage I prayed for my husband.  I didn’t ask God to make him love me, to stop hurting me, to open his eyes to the damage he’s causing.  I prayed for my husband’s best, just for his own sake.  Once I finally had the confirmation that I am wholly unacceptable and unwanted, my hope died.  And, there, I saw my husband as a wounded human being who needs the comfort of his Savior.  I can no longer expect anything from him for myself, but I can pray for him the way I might earnestly and with great compassion pray for an oppressed stranger. 

I imagine what I felt was like death.  Agony and freedom.  Ache and relief.  Fear and peace.  Stepping from one reality into the next, I let go.

This morning I awoke to a joy I haven’t felt in many years.  All I wanted to do was sit at Jesus’s feet and pray, immersing myself in His word.  I prayed for my husband.  I prayed for my boss.  I prayed for my clients.  I prayed for my coworker’s child.  It was a great day!  No one else’s bad attitude or impatience could touch me. I felt light-headed, almost giddy.  The Holy Spirit descended on me and restored my hope! Not hope that my husband will suddenly long for me and profess undying love for me. I don’t anticipate that ever happening. Better than that…hope because no matter what, God loves me; He is with me; and He is for me.

Family Paradigms

Tags

adult children, character, child rearing, Christian love in action, divorce, false Christianity, family relationships, forgiveness

When you grow up in an abusive home you don’t know your family dynamics and paradigm aren’t normal or right. You just follow your parents and accept their imprint without question. Like the baby dinosaurs in Ice Age who emerge from their shells and walk like Sid, we mimic what we see. It’s all we know to do. We’re hard wired that way, and it exemplifies the necessity of mindful parenting.  Unfortunately, our guardians and parents are most often merely following their own parents’ misguided or cultural imprints.  The cycles generationally repeat.

This weekend, deeply entrenched in the divorce process, my husband and I met to discuss a possible agreement.  I had called him requesting an amicable resolution because it was just discovered my daughter in law has a large brain tumor. I can’t–emotionally, physically, or financially–battle him and simultaneously support my son and his wife and deal with my own grief and fear over what our family’s new normal may look like in light of this discovery.  I need resolution where I can find it, and I was willing to beg my husband for mercy. 

The marriage has been painful for me.  I’ve felt used financially and abandoned emotionally and sexually.  It all finally abruptly crashed down when he assaulted my teenage son.  I was furious and every maternal cell in my body hated him.  I was finally done.  He was, in no uncertain terms, to leave the home, and I almost immediately filed for divorce.

I expected arguments and unrealistic demands from him when we met.  I prepared myself mentally for it and resigned myself to accept that this marriage wasn’t fair to me and neither will the divorce be fair to me.  But, he arrived with lunch and waters, greeted me with a hug, and seemed ready to discuss asset division and a friendly demise to our marriage.  He almost oozed compassion.  At some point while looking over the property appraisal he broached the subject of reconciliation….That was the last thing I expected from him.

The afternoon dragged on into the evening and the conversation twisted and turned as we dissected nearly every issue that had torn us apart.  We met again the next day and spent the afternoon making a list of what this really means to each of us, what we expect, what we need.  And, the conversation maintained an air of confession rather than accusation.  When we broached the subject of that fatal night, I heard my husband say he thought “as the man he needed to….”  He listened intently as I shared what being a man means to me.  And, he mentioned the example set by his strong, stoic grandfather.

I’ve not experienced acceptance or even Christian love from my husband’s family.  My children and I have recieved hot rejection and ridicule.  In my eyes, their enabling of my husband’s bad behaviors was crippling him as a man, a husband, and a father.  Their refusal to accept me drove a wedge of division in my marriage.  It was keeping him emotionally dependent on them, which allowed them to maintain control over him.  That dynamic was all too familiar to me, as my own mother had kept me trapped in addictions and destroyed my relationships under the guise of loving me, all the while keeping herself at the helm of my adult life. 

Some people will say I’m crazy for even considering this, for speaking to him.  But, he’s not moving back in tomorrow, not even next month.  It’s a pause, a discussion.  We’re merely giving God space to work on us both. 

He hasn’t pointedly stated it, but what I’m hearing my husband express behind his words is that his example of manly strength represented distant stoicism and firm control over the family.  I’ve certainly seen that modeled all along.  My husband has many wonderful qualities, and throughout the course of my short marriage I’ve often wondered if his addictions were masking the hidden struggle to be the kinder, gentler man I fell in love with.  That man seems contrary to his family’s paradigm of harsh, cold, distant, controlling “manliness.”  Yet, that belief system was still imprinted on him.  If I’m right, the internal struggle must be excruciating for him. 

In my last marriage I sacrificed my children, my career, my health, my everything for the hope of a change that never came.  In my job I pour my life into women who may return to their abusers or seek another one, who may never get a job and stay off public assistance, who may not stop the cycle of parental neglect in their generation……but we often say we’re planting seeds.  We dedicate our lives to the hope of change.  Whether anyone understands this decision or not, I’m willing to commit six months to the hope of change.  I’m willing to sacrifice my self determination for the hope of freedom for my husband.  Freedom from addictions.  Freedom from feeling the need to answer to his parents.  Freedom to be his best self, his true self before the Lord.  Freedom to experience love and marriage the way God intended it to be.  I have nothing more to lose and everything to gain. 

Romans 12:9-21

King James Version

⁹ Let love be without dissimulation. Abhor that which is evil; cleave to that which is good.

¹⁰ Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love; in honour preferring one another;

¹¹ Not slothful in business; fervent in spirit; serving the Lord;

¹² Rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing instant in prayer;

¹³ Distributing to the necessity of saints; given to hospitality.

¹⁴ Bless them which persecute you: bless, and curse not.

¹⁵ Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.

¹⁶ Be of the same mind one toward another. Mind not high things, but condescend to men of low estate. Be not wise in your own conceits.

¹⁷ Recompense to no man evil for evil. Provide things honest in the sight of all men.

¹⁸ If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men.

¹⁹ Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.

²⁰ Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head.

²¹ Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.

When you grow up in an abusive home you don’t know your family dynamics and paradigm aren’t normal or right. You just follow your parents and accept their imprint without question. Like the baby dinosaurs in Ice Age who emerge from their shells and walk like Sid, we mimic what we see. It’s all we know to do. We’re hard wired that way, and it exemplifies the necessity of mindful parenting.  Unfortunately, our guardians and parents are most often merely following their own parents’ misguided or cultural imprints.  The cycles generationally repeat.

This weekend, deeply entrenched in the divorce process, my husband and I met to discuss a possible agreement.  I had called him requesting an amicable resolution because it was just discovered my daughter in law has a large brain tumor. I can’t–emotionally, physically, or financially–battle him and simultaneously support my son and his wife and deal with my own grief and fear over what our family’s new normal may look like in light of this discovery.  I need resolution where I can find it, and I was willing to beg my husband for mercy. 

The marriage has been painful for me.  I’ve felt used financially and abandoned emotionally and sexually.  It all finally abruptly crashed down when he assaulted my teenage son.  I was furious and every maternal cell in my body hated him.  I was finally done.  He was, in no uncertain terms, to leave the home, and I almost immediately filed for divorce.

I expected arguments and unrealistic demands from him when we met.  I prepared myself mentally for it and resigned myself to accept that this marriage wasn’t fair to me and neither will the divorce be fair to me.  But, he arrived with lunch and waters, greeted me with a hug, and seemed ready to discuss asset division and a friendly demise to our marriage.  He almost oozed compassion.  At some point while looking over the property appraisal he broached the subject of reconciliation….That was the last thing I expected from him.

The afternoon dragged on into the evening and the conversation twisted and turned as we dissected nearly every issue that had torn us apart.  We met again the next day and spent the afternoon making a list of what this really means to each of us, what we expect, what we need.  And, the conversation maintained an air of confession rather than accusation.  When we broached the subject of that fatal night, I heard my husband say he thought “as the man he needed to….”  He listened intently as I shared what being a man means to me.  And, he mentioned the example set by his strong, stoic grandfather.

I’ve not experienced acceptance or even Christian love from my husband’s family.  My children and I have recieved hot rejection and ridicule.  In my eyes, their enabling of my husband’s bad behaviors was crippling him as a man, a husband, and a father.  Their refusal to accept me drove a wedge of division in my marriage.  It was keeping him emotionally dependent on them, which allowed them to maintain control over him.  That dynamic was all too familiar to me, as my own mother had kept me trapped in addictions and destroyed my relationships under the guise of loving me, all the while keeping herself at the helm of my adult life. 

Some people will say I’m crazy for even considering this, for speaking to him.  But, he’s not moving back in tomorrow, not even next month.  It’s a pause, a discussion.  We’re merely giving God space to work on us both. 

He hasn’t pointedly stated it, but what I’m hearing my husband express behind his words is that his example of manly strength represented distant stoicism and firm control over the family.  I’ve certainly seen that modeled all along.  My husband has many wonderful qualities, and throughout the course of my short marriage I’ve often wondered if his addictions were masking the hidden struggle to be the kinder, gentler man I fell in love with.  That man seems contrary to his family’s paradigm of harsh, cold, distant, controlling “manliness.”  Yet, that belief system was still imprinted on him.  If I’m right, the internal struggle must be excruciating for him. 

In my last marriage I sacrificed my children, my career, my health, my everything for the hope of a change that never came.  In my job I pour my life into women who may return to their abusers or seek another one, who may never get a job and stay off public assistance, who may not stop the cycle of parental neglect in their generation……but we often say we’re planting seeds.  We dedicate our lives to the hope of change.  Whether anyone understands this decision or not, I’m willing to commit six months to the hope of change.  I’m willing to sacrifice my self determination for the hope of freedom for my husband.  Freedom from addictions.  Freedom from feeling the need to answer to his parents.  Freedom to be his best self, his true self before the Lord.  Freedom to experience love and marriage the way God intended it to be.  I have nothing more to lose and everything to gain.  Maybe I’ll discover my best self in the process.  Perhaps I’ll get to experience love and marriage the way God intended it to be.  Maybe I’ll finally experience the beautiful freedom of knowing and being fully known.

Romans 8:15-22 King James Version

¹⁵ For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father.

¹⁶ The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God:

¹⁷ And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together.

¹⁸ For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.

¹⁹ For the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for the manifestation of the sons of God.

²⁰ For the creature was made subject to vanity, not willingly, but by reason of him who hath subjected the same in hope,

²¹ Because the creature itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God.

²² For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now.

Romans 12:9-21King James Version

⁹ Let love be without dissimulation. Abhor that which is evil; cleave to that which is good.

¹⁰ Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love; in honour preferring one another;

¹¹ Not slothful in business; fervent in spirit; serving the Lord;

¹² Rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing instant in prayer;

¹³ Distributing to the necessity of saints; given to hospitality.

¹⁴ Bless them which persecute you: bless, and curse not.

¹⁵ Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.

¹⁶ Be of the same mind one toward another. Mind not high things, but condescend to men of low estate. Be not wise in your own conceits.

¹⁷ Recompense to no man evil for evil. Provide things honest in the sight of all men.

¹⁸ If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men.

¹⁹ Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.

²⁰ Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head.

²¹ Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.

Returning to Myself and My God

Tags

abuse, Christianity, divorce, marriage, religion

Please forgive me for my absence.  I’ve been too busy living and working in domestic violence to have any time to write about it.  My career has exploded and demanded nearly every drop of my life blood.  And, my new husband was not supportive.  In fact, quite the opposite.  It’s hard to bring my hands to the keyboard when I know I’m living a lie.

You see, I’ve been a hypocrite.  I spend my days and nights talking to others about abuse dynamics, hoping to educate them in some way, and creating programs to help women recover their lives after the devastation of abuse.  I approve women for emergency shelter because the men who God commanded to care for them have ruined them financially and relationally.  The losses are heavy.  They need help.  And, then, I go home to my own neglected children, dirty house, and unpaid bills, to a man who sits in a back room alone playing video games and watching porn in a marijuana induced catatonia.  I awake on the weekends, eager to connect with my family, to often find him gone.  No note.  No kiss goodbye.  Just gone.  Perhaps to buy cigarettes.  Perhaps to buy weed.  Or, smoke it.  Or, facetime with his ex-wife and their children.  Or, go out to breakfast [alone?].  Some weekends, however, we create amazing memories and have incredible adventures.  Facebook and the walls of our home are adorned with the reminders of these beautiful times.

I long for a normal physical relationship and affection.  But, I hate it when he [rarely] initiates sex because my mind is wandering the entire time, “What is he thinking about in this moment?  Is he imagining I’m one of the women he openly flirts with?  Or, is he recalling the last pornographic video he watched as his private turn on tool?

He tells me I’m broken because of my past trauma.  He tells me he’s not doing any of those things.  I’m crazy.  (I’m also an ugly, old ass bitch and repugnant, but that’s beside the point.)  I just can’t forgive.  It’s all in my head.  I’m bitter.  I’m contentious.  He, on the other hand, is a peace maker.  His parents, on one of the extremely rare occasions where they even speak to me, told me recently that I’m fortunate to have such a godly husband.

I have no grounds to argue my position.  My past and my family history are so filled with vile sin while his family is above reproach.  He’s graduated seminary and pastored, in one capacity or another, three churches.  His father has been teaching Sunday School for 35 years and is running for office on a local level.  They’re so holy.

It’s soul sucking.

It is a dissonance that I am acutely aware of to the core of my being.

I feel drained, exhaused, and overwhelmed by my work and my home life.  I’m disconnected from family and friends.  Not because my husband demands it like the last one did.  Rather, because EVERYONE, other than my husband’s family, sees what is going on around me. All the while I stand there looking at my husband with adoration.  And, I’m humiliated.

I told him to leave last week.  He had to finally assault my son before I said enough is enough.  But, I’ve had enough.  No more lies.  No more porn.  No more daily intoxication.  No more failure to work as a team financially.  No more verbal abuse.  No more neglect.  I didn’t fear him physically like I did my last husband.  I actually fell head over heels in love with the fictitious character this one presented himself to be.  But, it’s done now.  The lies are over.  For me anyway.  He will go peddle his false religion and lies somewhere else.  I’ve fallen to my knees and asked God to forgive me for my role in this and am moving full steam ahead, shaking myself off, and knowing that my children and I deserve better than this man can ever pretend to be.

 

 

When Are Boundaries a Bad Thing?

Tags

abuse, community, marriage, recovery, relationships

Stop Crossing My Boundaries

I’d only been working at the domestic violence shelter for eight months when a full-time position as the Family Resource Advocate became available.  I felt the pinch or the sting of being unqualified and undereducated for the position I was currently holding, so it didn’t occur to me to apply for the newly open assignment.  My supervisor made a couple of references to me needing to update my resume, but my first inclination was to fear that meant they might be moving me on.  It never occured to me that she was inviting me to apply for the position.  Finally, one day, she very pointedly stated that if I intended to apply for the position I needed to do it NOW as they were already interviewing for it.  I scrambled.  And, upon formally submitting my interest in the job, the Intervention Coordinator told me that she and the Executive Director were hoping I would apply for it.  Mike drop.  Me???

Here I am, three months later, and I’m rocking my new position.  I love working with community partners to solve problems and secure resources for our clients.  I love watching my clients go from being so afraid to go in a grocery store that merely riding in the company vehicle is a milestone to securing employment, attending college classes, and navigating the bus system on their own.  I love my bright aqua corner office with two sunny windows.  I love sharing a very dark sense of humor with my supervisor, drinking coffee with her every morning, and learning from someone with over 40 years of experience in the field.  I love that my children are welcome at my place of employment and that my supervisor brings a dog to work.  I’m as comfortable there in a dress as I would be in sweats.  The position is dynamic.  My co-workers are real, down to earth, and compassionate.  The work is fulfilling.

However, there are some troubling symptoms of one bigger aspect to the new job that have caused me some distress.  I feel like my boundaries get pushed…..in a field that is all about helping others establish boundaries!

During the interview my Executive Director told me that he was concerned about this blog and would ask that I stop writing if I took this new position.  His concern was that I would burn out, that vicarious trauma would destroy me if I lived, ate, and breathed DV and trauma inside and outside of work.  So, I quit writing.  I want this blog.  But, I need a viable income.  The choice grieved me, but I was confident it was the right thing.   I felt a bit disturbed by him telling me what I could do outside of work on my own time, but I understood his concern and his desire for me to step away from the work in order to keep myself emotionally balanced.

Still, it has eaten at me.

My supervisor is an incredible woman and acts more like a mother mentor than my superior.  She empowers me to “take ownership of this position” and gives me the freedom to explore pathways that are comfortable for me.  I arrive to work each morning to find that she has already set up my pour over coffee and even knows exactly how I like it.  She checks in with me during difficult days just to make sure I’m doing okay.   And, as much as I appreciate her and enjoy her company, I find myself just wanting to escape to my home on some days.  It isn’t that I don’t want to have lunch with my boss.  I just want to have lunch with my children.

And, it eats at me.

My new husband has proven to be quite a selfish, uninterested jerk, and I regularly entertain the idea of divorce.  I devise exit plans routinely, and I live with one foot out of this marriage.   While he uses extremely separatist language–yours and mine–regarding our relationship even when direct references would be more appropriate, he continues to use unifying language regarding his ex–ours, we.  While he demonstrates no sexual interest in me and has issues with ED, he recently told me that he struggles with lust.  He said that though he’s never committed adultry, he admitted he lusts with his eyes.  He deletes messages on his phone and keeps it turned upside down.  And, this weekend I overheard him asking his online gaming buddies if they had recently played with a particular female gamer, as though he was looking for her or missing her online presence.  Then, he mentioned that he’d noticed she changed her profile picture and emphatically stated that “she is hot!”.   This came only about an hour after he had once again rejected my physical advances, stating that we were just intimate (five days prior).  When I share with him that I’m hurt by his rejection and neglect and I am curious about his phone habits, he claims that I’m disrespecting his boundaries and am abusing him by attempting to control his ability to have friends outside the marriage.

His accusations elicit a strong emotional response in me.

It Doesn’t Mean They Are Always Toxic

Working with survivors at various stages of recovery is fascinating to me as a survivor.  I get to watch myself, in a way, in a third person aspect.  I’ve been where they are.  I’ve held similar thinking patterns.  I’ve experienced the same paralyzing fears.  And, it helps me to realize that as intense as those feelings and fears were at the time, they were not correct.  They weren’t even helpful.  That realization allows me to draw back now in my present stage and ask myself if the intense emotions and fears I’m currently experiencing are helpful or correct.  Are my executive director and my supervisor purposefully disrespecting my right to decide how I spend my personal time?  If so, does that make them covertly abusive?  Am I disrespecting my husband’s boundaries by wanting to see who he’s talking to or by listening to his gaming conversations?  Am I trying to control him and isolate him?

I have noticed patterns of black and white thinking in my clients and remember believing similar premises.  It became a tug of war in my spirit when I saw my abuser do something kind or when a usually loving friend said something hurtful.  I took my abuser back when he said he was sorry or bought me gifts.  And, I unfriended close confidants because of the insensitive words they spoke in their misguided attempts to help me through my painful trials.  How could my abuser be bad when he was being nice in that moment?  How could I ever trust that friend again when she was capable of being so callous?   Black and white thinking.

We are all sinners.  Every.  Single.  One.  Of.  Us.  We all have it in us to good and to do evil.  It seems that survivors get hung up on the behaviors, especially once we finally begin to learn about the Power and Control Wheel and abuse dynamics.  They can become an arsenal for judgment rather than a catalyst for discernment if we aren’t careful.  And, it’s easy to forget that intent is key.  Does their behavior feel good to me in this moment, but is their intention wicked?  Or, do their words sound hurtful to me, but are their intentions good?  This feels like a boundry crossing, but is it another’s attempt to help me grow as an individual?  Or, are they legitimately trying to gain power and control over me?

Rich, deep relationships are catalysts for growth.  There is security in receiving forgiveness.  Our humility is nourished when we realize that someone accepts us, faults and all.  And, our compassion is developed when we accept others, faults and all.  It’s in that grey zone that we recognize, experience, and enjoy the raw humanity in ourselves and others.

When my executive director asked me to give up this blog, was he attempting to control me?  Was his desire to see me die a little bit as a person by taking away something so important to me?  No.  He was merely expressing a concern for a valued employee and attempting to give protective guidance and recommendations that would preserve my mental health for the long run.

Is my supervisor trying to monopolize my time and isolate me by not allowing me to see my children in the middle of the day?  No.  She knows that I’ll go home and put in a load of laundry, go over school work with the kids, and fix them lunch, and she knows that I need someone to take care of me in order to keep going.  She’s actually sacrificing her own time to ensure I stop taking care of others for 20 to 30 minutes each day.

Am I emotionally abusing my husband by asking him why he deletes his messages?  Are my tears and my pleading an attempt to manipulate him into giving up all outside relationships?  No.  I’m trying to reach out to him and obtain a loving and faithful, God honoring marriage.  I’m requesting financial and sexual accountability from my life partner.

I feel like my boss and my supervisor are crossing my boundaries, but they are, in actuality, looking out for me.  I’m probably struggling a bit with adjusting to being someone’s employee after being self-employed for almost eight years.  I want paid days off and insurance and a retirement account, but I also want autonomy.   My husband feels like I’m crossing his boundaries when I’m, in actuality, looking out for our marriage.  He wants a wife to cook and do laundry and bring in money to pay bills, but he wants to go out to eat and go to movies alone and hang out in bars and spend money on himself without accountability.  He wants to maintain addictions and relationships with other women, but he also wants someone else to shoulder half the responsibilities of life.  He’s probably struggling a bit with adjusting to being married.

Boundaries are critical.  They must be guarded and affirmed.  But, they also need to be kept in perspective because they are, after all, simply a tool for helping us relate to other human beings.  Are we using our boundaries as weapons?  Are we using them to maintain our own bad behaviors?  What is our intent in establishing boundaries with others?  And, what is their intent when they appear to be encroaching on our boundaries?   We can’t misuse the ideology of boundaries to support our black and white thinking or to cover our own sins.

Image borrowed from Pinterest

Expectations Based on Past Experiences and How They Can Destroy the Potential for Current Happiness

Tags

character, Christian love in action, Christianity, family, forgiveness, love

As a child I only saw my military brat cousins annually. When they arrived at our grandparents’ house my family would drive out to the country to visit them there. My cousins, all boys, would be dutifully waiting, under the direction of my oldest cousin, at the driveway with a wheelbarrow. Every visit he would run around the property hiding small bouquets of flowers in the hollows of the many fruit trees that dotted Nana and Papa’s land. He would then push me around the property in the wheelbarrow helping me collect my hidden bouquets. I was the only girl, and I was, in their eyes, special.

When he died of brain cancer in our 30’s I wrote him a letter wherein I told him that it was really all his fault I’d had so many problems in my relationships with men. Of course, I meant that with tenderness and appreciation and he knew that. He received it with the spirit in which it was intended, and we both cried over the impending loss of the unique lifelong love and adoration we had shared. He had set a standard for me as a young child that no man could live up to. I have expected men to express joy at seeing me and make extra efforts to make me feel special. The problem is men haven’t typically done that. My expectations are then dashed, and I become disillusioned with the man of the hour. Any potential for a pleasant or fulfilling relationship to be worked out is destroyed because I’m not seeing love expressed in the manner I think I need.

At the age of 16 a friend took me to a Christian concert at a local church. I wasn’t saved, didn’t know anything about this God or the Bible, and was really quite disinterested in it all. My friend was so excited for me to meet his older brother who was in town for this concert and doing the sound for the show. His brother was bigger than life to him; he was proud of him and eager to introduce us.

The brother was busy setting things up and didn’t engage much with us. But, I’ll never forget that moment. He was tall. Really tall. And, beautiful. A really pretty man. And, he didn’t pay any attention to me. He was more interested in doing his job than meeting a girl. However, two years later he was back in town again, and my friend set us up on a date. It was December and very cold. He dressed impeccably and took me to the nicest restaurant in town. After dinner we stopped at a local park. It had begun to snow quite heavily, and we walked and talked and laughed and made snow angels. I was smitten.

He played bass in a Christian rock band that traveled the country ministering to kids through their music. I still wasn’t saved, and he was on fire for Christ. I was a total mess. And, he had it ALL together.

One year for my birthday he sent me a tape of him asking the attendees of his concert to assist him in wishing me a happy birthday. The entire auditorium yelled, “Happy Birthday” on the count of three. Another time he tried on clothes in a women’s store to make sure he had the right fit for me and then sent me the complete outfit. When he proposed he said the kind of beautiful and unforgettable words that little girls dream of hearing on that occasion. It was perfect. The next day he showed me pictures of a house and vehicles and his business. He said he wanted to show me what he was offering me.

Over the years I’d come to adore his father and respect his mother. His sister pierced my ears in their living room. And, he came to love my mother in spite of how I felt about her. It was as family relationships should be. It all felt right.

But, like his brother, I saw him as bigger than life. And, as he showed me what he was offering me, I wondered what I could possibly ever offer him. I had nothing to give a man like that.

We hadn’t seen each other in 25 years until this past Thursday night. I met him in town, and we talked about the past and shared with each other where our lives have ended up. We’re both married, both committed Christians, both workaholics, both politically conservative, and we both fiercely love our families. I also realized I still have some VERY strong feelings for him.

As he shared his tremendous success as a business man, I couldn’t help but compare him to my lazy, pot smoking husband. As he shared his dedication to his stepchildren, I couldn’t help but compare him to my cold, indifferent husband and how he daily rejects my children. As he shared his activism and seeking of knowledge, I couldn’t help but compare him to my video game obsessed husband. As he led me in prayer and spoke words of wise counsel, I couldn’t help but compare that to my husband’s cruelty and neglect.

I came away from Thursday night realizing that the man from the past was everything I had wanted my ex husband to be. He is everything I thought my current husband would be but isn’t. He is everything I’ve yearned for in a man, but I threw him away because I felt so inferior.

My husband is so broken and full of sin, yet he’s done some really wonderful things, too. He helped my son buy his first vehicle. He has helped my daughter with math and got my youngest son involved in youth group. Just yesterday he sold his chain saw and planned to use those funds to buy a new front door for the house. However, when we went shopping for his birthday he ended up spending that money on me, purchasing $120 shoes on a whim just because I liked them.

He’s not all bad. He’s human. Like I said, he’s broken and full of sin. But, he has some redeeming qualities. Yet, when I look at him playing video games all I can see is the man from the past in a news video defending a Jewish man from white supremacists. When he ignores my children and leaves the house to talk to his father on the phone, excluding us from wishing my father in law happy birthday, all I can see is the man from the past visiting my mom or playing volleyball in the yard with my older children or taking me to his parents’ house on Christmas. My husband just can’t compare. He’s no match for tall, dark, and handsome, who also happens to be humble, loyal, hard-working, and driven. I expect my husband to be this other man, not the unique individual that he is. And, he fails, in every way, to live up to my expectations.

But, as the man from the past said, “I chose this.” This is my husband. My struggle is that I can’t be content or committed to pray for this man when he is such a failure in my eyes. He’ll never be as good as the one that got away. And, that’s not really fair to him, is it?

My heart needs tweeked. I need to appreciate what I do have instead of longing for something I could have had. I need to be grateful that at one time I was loved….. by my now deceased cousin and by my now married ex-boyfriend. I can’t get either of them back, but I can cherish those memories. And, I can honor those two incredible men by loving the way they did. They loved me unconditionally, in spite of my brokenness and sin. Perhaps I should try to do that for my husband. Perhaps I should try to do that for the Savior who commands us to love one another. Perhaps I should give as I have so freely received.

Overcoming Triggers; Not Blaming the New Partner for the Sins of the Old Partner, Part Two

Tags

abuse, friendship, love, marriage, recovery, relationships

New Man has seemed obsessed with his ex at times, and it has caused me to feel unwanted and unloved, like a second rate, second hand, lame replacement. It wounds me to hear how deeply she hurt him and how much he wanted to save their marriage. I’ve felt pierced when he’s told me he did whatever she asked of him, no matter how many turns her requests took, while he doggedly refused to perform the simplest of my requests. I couldn’t understand why he’d want her so bad and want to please her so much, catering to her ridiculous whims, and how he could care so little about my sincere needs. She is physically quite ugly, resembling the classic caricature of a witch, and she has the personality to match. That isn’t the assessment of a jealous second wife. My adult daughter looked her up online and asked if I’d seen a picture of her. I had not at that point. She exclaimed, “You’ve got to! She looks like a witch!” Upon finally meeting her, my husband’s sister took me aside to ask how the meeting had gone and exclaimed, “I’ve always thought she looks just like a witch!” What did this woman have that captivated him so? She’s horrible on every level, in every way.

On our prewedding trip to visit New Man’s family, the ex gave him a birthday gift from her, not their children, just from her. She hugged him multiple times, reminisced about their life together in front of me, and then draped her arms around him one more time and invited him to “come back alone so we can have a one on one, face to face” and smiled coyly. We laughed about the ridiculousness of her behavior, but he kept the cheap gift hidden in his briefcase in spite of telling me he didn’t know where it was, he thought he’d thrown it away. I interpreted him keeping it as hanging on to a special momento from her. It had hurt me to experience that entire incident with her on our special trip. And, it hurt me eight months after the wedding to find the gift hidden away. I told him so, and he blew me off. I have simmered and stewed over it but finally decided not to say anything more about it. I really didn’t want him to get rid of it because I insisted. I wanted him to get rid of it because he didn’t want something from a woman who inappropriately gave it to him on our engagement trip and asked him to dump me in a large unfamiliar city to come back and have sex with her the month before our wedding.

We’ve been lying in bed following afternoons of incredible intimacy when he’s, out of the blue, begun talking about her. I know details of their sex life and her body that I never wanted to hear. He’s received texts from her and stood at the back of the truck, away from me, to respond. He leaves the house to FaceTime with his children rather than trying to occasionally include us all and allow us to get to know each other. She is always involved in the conversations and joins in as though they are a separated family, happy to hear from the head of their household while he’s temporarily away from the family home, so he goes off to himself to have these moments with her and their children. And, why? For what purpose? What was it that caused him to call me by her name? To talk about her incessantly? To hide his communications with her from me? Why doesn’t he shut her down?

I just keep coming back to that he isn’t over her.

She told his sister that she still believes he will hit rock bottom in his new home state and will come back to her. After a recent visit with her and the children, New Man’s parents told him that it seems like she really misses him. She has texted him that several times over the last year.

It all creates terrible insecurity in me. I have expected that one day he’ll succomb to her wiles and go running back to the love of his life, happy that she wants him back. I fear that he really wants to be there, not here with me. I even wonder if he thinks about her when we’re making love. It’s crazy, the places I go in my head with all of this.

I finally just had to submit it to God. I had to find some way to at least appreciate, if I couldn’t enjoy, the moments with my husband sitting in church, sharing coffee in the morning and wine in the evening, making love as the sun comes up, working on our new home together. I was losing every joy in pleasant things by obsessing about the what ifs. And, as I backed off on it New Man began to talk even more about her but in a different way. As I relaxed and showed more grace in all things, he loosened up and shared more of what he felt about those memories he goes to constantly. And, as I kept my insecurities to myself and merely asked clarifying questions he was more willing to explain himself and not get defensive and shut me out. I quit triggering him and, in turn, he quit triggering me. We were able to just talk.

The grand revelation is that I’m not the only survivor here. New Man is also a survivor of narcissistic abuse, and some of my behaviors were triggering him. When he triggered me I’d run to my friends, my children, and our church and tell them all what a rotten bastard he is. She had done that to such a degree that she got him fired from his job and excommunicated from their church. There were a couple of times when he triggered me and I changed locks on interior doors in order to feel protected. She had changed the locks on the family home and denied him access to the house he’d bought and paid for and denied him access to his own personal belongings inside that house. My actions triggered him on a visceral level. His responses then commonly triggered me, which then caused me to react in a further triggering way for him. It became a shit show of triggering behavior and trigger responses.

His dear friend who acted as our officiate asked us to do premarital homework that consisted of writing down our needs, dreams, and greatest fears and then share them with each other. New Man listed one of his needs as being forgiveness, healing, and a safe place to grow in trust with one another. When I first read that a year ago I didn’t understand it. What did he need healing from? What did he need forgiven for? What was he talking about a safe place? I didn’t want to be his therapist. I didn’t want him to work out his demons with me. I wanted him to adore me and nurture me and take care of me. I wanted the passion and fun and adventure of our courtship to continue into married life.

Interestingly, I’ve received the same piece of advice from several people who’ve been in relationships for 30+ years: the passion will end. Enjoy it while it lasts but cultivate the friendship because that is what will be the most important thing once the physical fades.

What is friendship if it isn’t a safe place to grow? Someone you can trust with your secrets. Someone who will help you heal when you’ve been hurt. Someone who always forgives you and stands by you.

My husband needed me to be his friend. He is an emotional image bearer just like me. But, I had to make a shift to be willing to die to self and not hold him accountable for the sins of my former partner in order to help him heal from the sins of his former partner. And, in doing that, he has bonded to me in a deeper way that has been the soil in which the passion and fun and adventure have taken on new dimenions. And, my needs are being met.

It’s difficult to not grow hard and have the attitude that, “I will NEVER allow another man/woman to do that to me again!!!” While we need to protect ourselves from ABUSE, we can’t be so fearful, so watchful that we aren’t willing to sacrifice or extend grace. In love and marriage we MUST put all our guards down and be truly willing to get messy and hurt for the sake of our partner.

As for that gift? He gave it away yesterday. And, her continued inappropriate communications? He received one this morning (their anniversary, that wished him a good day and said she was, of course, thinking of him), showed it to me, and then he texted back, “Of course I want to hear about the kids’ medical updates, but I’m a happily married man and your communication is neither appreciated nor welcomed.”

Remarriage after abuse won’t be easy for either partner, but it’s worth the struggle and the sacrifice to have a friend for life.

Overcoming Triggers; Not Blaming the New Partner for the Sins of the Old Partner: Part One

Tags

abuse, dreams, faith, family, love, marriage, recovery, relationships

I’ve struggled to write for so long now.  I’ll begin and edit and delete and begin and edit and delete some more.  And, then I just walk away.  My first year of marriage has been a rollercoaster.  How do I share that with my readers?  It’s not fair to ask others to join me in this emotional chaos.  One day I’m crazy in love, and the next day I hate him.  I’ve printed divorce papers three times and purchased a house with him.  I’ve sought legal advice and am attending marriage counseling through our church.  It’s been awful.  And, wonderful.  And, then worse.  And, then better.

Some of it, a lot of it, has been him.  He has been unemployed for the entire first ten months of our marriage.  He has wasted the largest portion of his retirement on marijuana and booze.  He’s spent untold hours playing video games and ignoring his responsibilities as a husband and step-father.  He has talked incessantly about his ex and called me by her name more times than I care to remember.  I have every reason to divorce him.  And, my church supports me in doing so.  But, as a believer in Jesus Christ, I still need to remove the log from my own eye, and I’ve got a few.

I refuse to make excuses for any man ever again.  Not after what the abuser did.  So, I’ve held New Man to task for Every.  Single.  Little.  Thing.  He has done wrong…..and then some.  I hold him accountable for what I THINK he has done and what I THINK he means by what he says.  I have flat out refused to give him space to grow and time to recover.  In my anger I’ve done unthinkable things I thought I was incapable of doing.  In my anger!  I’m not just hurt as a new wife that he hasn’t lived up to what he promised me or what I thought this was going to be like.  I’m ANGRY.  I’m so pissed off that I can feel my blood pressure rise and my heart rate increase from 0 to 60.  I’ve wondered sometimes if this is what my abuser felt.  This intense, hot, violent resentment.  I’ve HATED New Man.

I’ve hated him for what he’s done because I believed in him so much, because I was so head over heals in love with him.  I loved him passionately and with such a terrible longing that I’ve only felt once before, and that time it lasted for over 30 years until the day that man died. I believed in the immense possibilities of a life together loving the Lord and each other in this fun filled, electrifying friendship of ours.  But, he let me down.  New Man let me down with a hard, earth shattering crash.  My heart broke as it was hurled to the ground.

As I stood on the brink of divorce thinking about the epic adventures we shared and the lifelong dreams that seemed so nearly fulfilled, I had to make a choice.  Do I divorce him, as my attorney, my friends, my children, and my church tell me to?  Or, do I try counseling?  A last ditch effort to see if he has one shred of care or concern for me in him?

Chide me if you will.  I’m a lifelong victim and can’t be trusted to make my own decisions.  I know, I know.  I give people chances when they don’t deserve it to my own detriment.  It’s what I did with my mother.  And, with my abuser.  It’s what I do……punishing myself for never being good enough.  But, what if?  What if he actually is just as damaged as I am?  What if he is actually, like me, just a simple sinner in need of a Savior and the love of God wrapped in flesh?

My foolish “giving in” has given me new insight and new perspective into this new husband the Lord provided for me.  But, it has shown me more about myself.  I’m angry.  I’m pissed off at my ungrateful children and my cold, mentally ill mother and my cruel and psychotic ex husband, but I’m pretending I’ve risen above it all and have conquered my pain.  I’m a SURVIVOR now.  Hear me roar.  The truth is I’m as fake and phoney as those I say I stand in direct opposition of because I haven’t risen above any of it.  I’ve buried it.  The truth is I’m pissed!!!!  And, standing naked and unashamed before another human being in holy matrimony has exposed those ugly parts of me I’ve pretended don’t even exist.  I can’t relate to him or understand him or extend grace to him while I’m being eaten alive by this insatiable resentment.  I’ve accused New Man of being a hypocrite and a liar, but I am, too.  Marriage is a mirror, and I do not like his reflection.

Some may think I’m falling into old patterns of behavior by “trying” to make a marriage work with someone who has done, or failed to do, the things New Man has done, and failed to do.  I’m actually stepping out into brave new territory.  I’m actually bolder now, by staying with him and extending him grace and ALLOWING THE UGLY PARTS OF MYSELF TO BE EXPOSED TO HIM, than I ever was as a militantly defiant single woman.  We are facing each other in shame and embarassment with all of our wounds exposed for the other to see.  We can choose to say it’s okay, I accept you as you are.  Or, we can walk away in unforgiveness and basically say to each other that our past accusers and abusers were right.  We’re not worth the effort.

Not this time.  This time, he and I will hold on tightly and, looking into each other’s eyes, say that you, in all of your brokenness, were created in the image of a Holy God and I see Him reflected in your being.  Where it feels dark and cold, I choose to hope for light and a future.  I choose you, as I believe you are God’s best for me.  For better or for worse.

 

Self Awareness and Knowing Your Own Value

Throughout my journey I’ve sought to examine my own attitudes and behaviors in order to reign in the toxic, unhealthy, or ungodly aspects of me. Sometimes that has required dissecting the relationships I’ve chosen or remained in. Sometimes that has required quiet times of reflection. There are definitely patterns to my choices, similarities in those I choose to share myself with in close relationship.

The point has never been to ridicule those individuals, though I do make damning statements about them. The purpose is to determine what could I do differently. Why do I seek out individuals and groups who embody certain characteristics. Why do I feel comfortable being treated a certain way.