Saturday, January 16, 2010

Swells of Anger, troughs of pain

Dealing with anger again. What's it telling me? Angry about the continued lying to the world about his secret life behind the mask, angry about the dismissive attitude -- oh well, we just weren't suited (it took you 23 years to figure that out, or was it because you couldn't find the laundromat?). I wonder if what I'm really angry about is that it tells the world that I somehow was unsuitable, something less than worthy.

But it's more than that, I think, even though I am as weak in succumbing to my ego as the next person. It's the way the world dismisses vows, and commitments, especially those you make on behalf of the weaker -- our children. For all their sophistication, our children are fragile. And yet they're also strong. Maybe this will make them stronger, maybe it will shatter my daughter's chances for a good marriage, if she pursues life with a man who is as spiritually and psychologically unformed as her dad. Who can my son look up to now -- he has declared that his dad is no longer a role model. His dad gave up all that, because of something he thought might bring him happiness? Even the kids are smarter than that -- my daughter "got" the message of Where the Wild Things Are (you can't run away from your problems).

Met with a friend yesterday, and he says I should be relieved that he's gone, given what I now know. It was hard to explain to him that separation and divorce goes against everything I believe in, even while intellectually I know this is better now (does it bother me to admit that Tom was right -- this was a bad marriage? or because I don't get the opportunity to shout out that it's bad because he is ill and has no morals?).

But I also realize I'm doing exactly what my parents did -- my narcissistic mother, riddled with hypochrondria and sleeping pills, ranting to the skies about her horrible children, and my father allowing it to happen. (Even for all that, I'm healthier than my husband because I admit whereas he cannot be honest.)

But like my parents -- mother wrapped up in her navel and dad bound tightly to her illness --I'm wondering if I'm ignoring my children in order to obsess on the whys and wherefores of my h's behaviour. They need me focused on them, present, loving, fun and stable. I never thought I'd say this about my husband, but he's just not stable, and I was blind to not see it before.

Not exactly my most cogent post, but there you have it.

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